Early English Prose Romances: With Bibliographical and Historical Introductions

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EARLY

ENGLISH PROSE ROMANCES,

VOLUME II.

EARLY ,, v

dfotjjM §wn |j^m&fes,

WITH

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL INTRODUCTIONS.

EDITED BT

WILLIAM JTTHOMS, F.S.A.

SECOND EDITION, ENLARGED.

VOL. II.

VIRGILIUS.
ROBIN HOOD.
GEORGE A GREEN. *
TOM A LINCOLNE.

LONDON:

NATTALI AND BOND, BEDFORD STREET,

COVENT GARDEN.
1858.

VIRGILIUS.

/

I

VIRGILIUS.

The Lyfe of Virgilius is perhaps the most curious
production of an age which having dubbed the heroes
of antiquity with the characters of knight-errants,
with equal judgment and consistency transformed
the ancient poets and philosophers into necromancers
and magicians. They who could not recognize valour
in any other form than in the institutions of chivalry,
might well be supposed to consider genius and learning
a3 identical with a knowledge of the magical sciences.
Accordingly, while the romantic histories of Hercules
and of Jason, of Alexander and of Caesar, delighted
the world by their details of the valorous exploits of
those redoubted champions, we find the poet Virgil*
no less an object of renown and admiration, for his
consummate skill in the craft of necromancy, and

* There can be little doubt but the poet of the Augustan
Age, and the necromancer of the dark ages is one and the same
person. Similar honours have been conferred upon Horace,
in the neighbourhood of Palestrina, where he is still revered
by the people as a powerful and benevolent wizard. — Warton's
Hist, of Eng. Poetry, vol. 3 p. 62. note by the Editor.

4 PBEFA.CE.

for the wonders which he was thereby enabled to
perform.

Two causes have been supposed to have exerted
their influence in procuring for the Mantuan bard
the character of a magician ; the first is that which
is with great plausibility advanced by Rusbus in his
Life of the Poet.

"Malum ilium, avum Virgilii, exemplaria vit»
omnia Magum vocant. At ciim ejus filia, Virgilii
mater, juxta omnes Maia dicta sit, omnino Majae
pater fuit Majus, non Magus : indeque ortum ex-
istimo, ut Virgilius magicis artibus imbutus fuisse
creditus sit ab Elinando monacho, aliisque sequioris
saeculi scriptoribus : quod et Ecloga septima quadam
sacra descripsisset et peritus esset multarum artium,
et precipue avum habuisse Magum diceretur :" the
second, that knowledge of the mathematical sciences
which has always been attributed to him, the learned
discussion on magical subjects contained in his eighth
eclogue; and says Mr. Dunlop, in his History of
Fiction, " This belief in the magical powers of Virgil,
may have received confirmation from the sixth book
of the JEneid in which the secrets of the world
unknown are so mysteriously revealed :—

"Dii, quibus imperium est animarum, umbroque silentes,
Et Chaos, et Phlegethon, loca nocte silentia late;
Sit mihi fas audita loqui ; sit numine vestro
Fandere res alta terra et caligine mersas."

PREFACE. 5

But to whichever of these causes the Poet may
have been indebted for his necromantic fame, he
appears to have been in the full enjoyment of it
previous to the beginning of the thirteenth century,
at which time the legends concerning him were
inserted in the Otia Imperialia of Gervase of Tilbury,
who having visited Naples was a witness of many of
those wonders which were then to be seen, and was
informed by his host the Archdeacon Pinatellus con-
cerning the remainder.* In this extravagant compi-
lation we are told that Virgil set up a brazen fly on
one of the gates of Naples which remained there
eight years, during which time it did not permit any
other fly to enter the city. That in the same place
he caused a shambles to be erected, wherein .meat
never smelt or was the least tainted. That on an-
other gate of the same city he placed two immerfie
images of stone, one of which was handsome and
merry, the other sad and deformed, and which were
indued with such magical power that if any one

* For a specimen of this extraordinary production, vide
Appendix. A very interesting Selection from it has lately been
published by my learned friend, Professor Liebrecht, under the
title of Des Gervasius von Tilbury Otia Imperialia, In einer
Auswahl neu herausgegeben und mit Anmerkunger begleitet von
Felix Liebrecht. Ein Beitrag zur Deutsche* Mythologie und
Sqgenforschung. 8vo. Hannover, 1856.

PBEFACE.

came in by the side of the former all his affairs pros-
pered, while if he approached by the latter he was
disappointed and unfortunate: that he set up on a
high mountain near Naples a brazen statue, having
in its mouth a trumpet which sounded so loud when
the north wind blew, that the fire and smoke issuing
out of those forges of Vulcan which are at this day
seen near the city of Puossola, were forced back
towards the sea, without doing any hurt or injury to
the inhabitants. That it was he made the baths
capable of removing every disorder, with fair
inscriptions in letters of gold, defaced since by
the physicians of Salerna who were troubled that
men should thereby know what diseases every bath
could cure. That the same Virgil took a course
no man could be hurt in that miraculous vault cut
tlrough the mountain of Pausilippo, to go to Naples ;
and lastly that he made a public fire, whereat every-
one might freely warm himself; near which he had
placed a brazen archer with his arrow drawn out,
and this inscription, " If any one strike me, I will
shoot off my arrow." Which at length happened,
when a certain fool, striking the said archer, he imme-
diately shot him with his arrow and sent him into
the fire, which was presently extinguished.*

* Vide Davics' translation of Naudaeus, p. 289, et seq.

PBEFACE. 7

These fables were transcribed by Gervase's contem-
porary, Helinandus the monk, into his Universal
Chronicle, and were also introduced by Alexander
Neckham, a Benedictine monk who studied at Paris
in the thirteenth century, into his book De natura
Rerum, (book 6) with many important additions.

In particular we are told that Naples being
troubled with an infinite number of infectious leeches,
it was delivered as soon as Virgil had caused a golden
one to be cast into a well : that he surrounded his
dwelling and garden (where it never rained) with an
immoveable stream of air, which served the purposes ,
of a wall ; and that he constructed a brazen bridge
which took him wheresoever he pleased. That he
also made a. steeple with such miraculous artifice,
that the tower wherein it was, though of stone, moved
in the same manner as a certain bell, that was in it
did, and that both had the same shaking and motion:
and also that he formed those statues called the
Preservers of Rome, which were watched night and
day by priests, for that as soon as any nation enter-
tained the thought of revolting against the Roman em-
pire, immediately the statue representing that nation,
and adored by it, moved ; a bell it had about the neck
sounded, and with its finger it so pointed out which,
was the rebellious nation, that the name of it might be

8 PEETAOE.

perceived in writing, which the Priest carrying to the
emperor he immediately raised an army to reduce
and quiet it.

Similar fables concerning Virgil have been men-
tioned by Gower in his Confessio Amantis, by Sympho-
rianus Champier, and Albertus de Elib, by Tostatus
Bishop of Avila, who ranks Virgil among those that
practised necromancy, and by Vincent of Beauvais,
who speaks among other wonderful things done by
him, of his fabricating those brazen statues at Borne
called Salvacio Romae. This fiction is mentioned
by the old anonymous author of the Mvrabilia Bonus
written in the thirteenth century and printed by
Montfaucon. It also occurs in Lydgate's Bochas.
He is speaking of the Pantheon.

Whyche was a temple of old foundacion,
Ful of ydols, up set on hye stages ;
There throughe the worlde of erery nation
Were of theyr goddes set up great ymages,
To enery kingdom direct were their visages
As poetes and Folgens by hys live
In bokes olde plainly doth dyscrive. •

Every ymage had in his hande a bell,
As apperteyneth to every nation,
Which by craft some token should tell
Whan any kingdom fil in rebellion, &c.

It would appear too that the story of the Egg on

PREFACE.

which the fate of the town of Naples depended was
an article of current belief during the middle ages ;
for by the statutes of the order Du Saint Esprit, insti-
tuted in 1352, a Chapter of the knights is appointed
to be held annually at the Castle of the Enchanted
Egg near the grotto of Virgil. Montfaucon, vol. 2,
p. 329. "But since the authors/' says Naudeus,*
tl who have made mention of the magic of Virgil are
so many that they cannot be examined one after the
other, without loss of much time and abundance of
repetitions, we must imitate the Civilians who take
authorities per saturam, and so digesting all that
remains into one article, show that De Loyer de
Spectrin, lib. 1. c. 6, makes mention of his Echo ; Para-
celsus, Tractatus de imag. c. 11, of his magical images
and figures ; Helmoldus, Hist. Slavor. lib. 4. c. 19, of
ms representation of the city of Naples shut up in a
glass bottle ; Sibyllus, Peregr. quwst. de cad. 3. c. 2,
questione, and the Author of the Image of the World,
of the head he made to know things to come by;
Petrarch in Itinerario, and Theodric a Niem, Lib, 3,
de schismat. c. 19, of the vault he made at Naples at
the request of Augustus ; Vigenere, of Cyphers, cap.
19, p. 330, of his alphabets ; Trithemius Antipal. lib.
4. c. 3, of his book of Tables and Calculations whereby
to find out the genius of all persons ; and lastly of
* Naudaus, History of Magic, p. 294.

10 PEEFACE.

those who have seen the cabinet of the Duke of
Florence, of an extraordinary great looking-glass, which
they affirm to be that in which this poet exercised
Catoptromancy .' '

Such legendary tales as these, therefore, not only
excited the public mind in favour of a Eomance which
should adopt the principal actor in them for its hero,
but supplied ample materials for its production. Two
editions are extant of the old French Romance : " Lea
faits merveilleux de Virgile fil% (Fung CJteualier des
Ardennes :" one in 4to, printed at Paris, by Jean
Trepperel ; the other in 8vo, likewise printed at Paris,
by Quill. Myuerd, neither of them dated.

The work also exists in Flemish, as will presently be
seen from the note by the late Francis Douce, although
I have been unable to find any mention of it in Mone's
interesting volume on the Popular Literature of the
Low Countries. But as such is the case, and the English
translation was printed in the Low Countries, there
can be little doubt that it was translated from such
Flemish or Dutch version.

Two editions of the English translation are known,
one is in the G-arrick collection of the British Museum,
which is too imperfect (save from the evidence of its
type and wood cuts, which appear to be Copland's)
to designate by whom it was printed: the other,
printed at Amsterdam by John Doesborcke, of which

PREFACE. 11

the only copy known was in the possession of Mr.
Douce, from which Mr. Utterson was enabled to re-
print an impression of fifty copies on paper, and one
on vellum, for private distribution; and from such
reprint the present publication was kindly permitted
Mr. Douce and Mr. Utterson : the Editor must also
acknowledge himself to have received considerable
assistance from the valuable notice prefixed by the
latter gentleman.

The present romance may be considered with con-
siderable probability as having had its origin among
the fictions of the East. The incident of Virgil releas-
ing the fiend from the hole in which he was confined
must have been derived from the tale of the Fisherman
and the Genie in the 11th of the Arabian Nights'
Entertainments, which is said to be still a prevalent
superstition in the East. The intrigue also of Virgil
with the Sultan's daughter much resembles the adven-
tures to be found in the Eastern romances. In one
of the French Fabliaux, entitled Lai d y Hippocrate
(Le Grand, vol. 1. p. 232.) there is an absurd
story of that physician being pulled half way up a
tower in a basket by a lady of whom he was enamoured,
and then left suspended, that he might be exposed to
the ridicule of the multitude. A similar story is
related of Virgilius, and is oue of the most popular

12 PREFACE.

concerning him : Stephen Hawes in his Pastime of
Pleasure gives this adventure with ludicrous minute-
ness, and Gratian du Pont thought it worthy insertion
into his Controversies of the two Sexes, male and
female, printed at Thoulouse, 1534, as a demonstration
of the malice and wickedness of women. It is curious
that at this day there is a chapel at Rome called
Santa Maria, built in the first ages of the church, and
which is likewise denominated " Bocca della verita,"
on account of a large round mask, with an enormous
mouth, fixed up in the vestibule. Tradition says,
that in former times the Romans, in order to give a
more solemn confirmation to oaths, were wont to put
their hands into this mouth, and that if a person took
a false oath, his hand would have been bitten off: —
it is scarcely necessary to point out the resemblance

between this legend and that of the metal serpent
constructed by Virgil.

Since this Introduction was first written the story

of Virgilius has attracted the attention of many

writers ; and those who would thoroughly investigate

the History of the Romance are referred to a long

list of authorities on the subject, which is given by

von der Hagen in the second volume of his Gesammt-

abenteuer, s. cxxv. and to the notes of E. W. V.

Schmidt in his Beitrage zur Qesckichte der Roman-

tischen Poesie.

PSEFACE. 13

I am indebted to the German Editor of the Early

Prose [Romances,* R. O. Spazier for a reference to

the curious old Italian Poem, containing the Mantuan

Legend of Virgil, published by Muratori in his Antiq.

Italic. Medii JEvi, torn. V. The Poem is entitled

" Aliprandina osia Chronica delle Citta di Mantova di
Buonamente Aliprando, cittadino Mantuano," and

the Legend of Virgil in the third chapter (Di Virgilio

Mantuano, gran Poeta, dalle sua Nativita fino alia

morte) commences as follows :

Mantova un suo Cittadino avia,
Per dritto nome Figulo chiamato.
llicco e pieno tra gli altri si tenia.
Era in natural molto riputato.
La donna sua Maja si chiamava,
Ch'era nata da un uomo scienzato.
Una notte la donna se sognava,
Che fuor del corpo suo producia.
Un ramo Lauro, che fior si portava.
E quello ramo poi pomi facia
E una verga le parea di vedire,
Che fiore e frutto assai si se avia.
Questa donna pur si volea sapire,
Quel, che questo suo sogno le indicava
Tnnanzi che venisse al partorire.
Un Astrologo grande domandava,

* Alt Englvsche Sagen und Marchen nach alten Vaehrbuehern
herausgegeben von William J. Thorns. Deutsch und mit Znsatzm
von Richard Otto Spazier, les Bandchen, Brunswick, 1830.

14 PBEFACE.

Che'l 8uo sogno le dovesse spianare,
E quello a lei molto la confortava.
Dicea: " voi vi dovete confortare
Di questo sogno • che vi so bendire,
Che voi v'avete molto a rallegrare.
Un figlio maschio avete a partorire.
Sara saggio, e di scienza ben' imbuto,
Non si trovera simil' al ver dire.
E perche '1 sogno vostro sia compiuto,
Per segno della verga de li fiori
Virgilio per suo nome sia mettuto."

I cannot better conclude this Introduction than by
printing the memoranda made, from time to time in his
copy of the Eomance by my late honoured and respected
friend, Francis Douce, of whose kindness to me when

*

a very young antiquary, I am glad to have this ap-
propriate opportunity of making a public acknowledg-
ment. They are as follows :

" In the Mem. de Trevoux, 1743, p. 705, is a letter
on the pretended magick of Virgil, in which the
following matters alone are worth notice : —

1. Virgil first mentioned as a magician by Gerv.
Tilb. in his Otia Imperii (?. if not after Vine, de
Beauvais P)

2. Mentioned in the same way by Helinard in his
Chronicle.

3. Mentioned in "Le Miroir du Monde, Geneve,

PREFACE. 15

1517, par Jac. Vivien," in verse. He cites Vine, de
Beauvais.

4. Mentioned in " La fleur de toutes les histoires,
par Jean Mansel."

MS. in the library of Card. Bichelieu, about 1430.
He relates the story of the basket, and the author of
the letter wishes there had been a miniature to repre-
sent Virgil as Don Quixote suspended by the malice
of Maritorna. He was not aware of the old prints on
this subject.

See " Notices du MSS. (de Eoi)," torn. v. 253.

Some Virgilian magic stories are in Bromiard's
Summa Predicantium. See that of the Mirror in.
fo. xxxix b , and of the Statues in fo. lvii b .

They used to shew Virgil's magick mirror in the
treasury of S. Denis, where Mr. Evelyn saw it in 1643.
See Pere Donblet's Hist, of the Abbey of S. Denis,
p. 347.

Selden, in his work " De Diis Syris," p. 33, quotes
Arnoldi Historia Slavorum for an image of Naples in
a phial, made by Virgil.

See Mons. Paris' s edition of the " Soman de
Berthe," fo. xlvii, for an anecdote of Virgil in Adenez's
romance of Cleomades.

This work was probably translated from the .French,
in which language there are two ancient editions.

16 PREFACE.

See G-oujefc, Biblioth. Franc, ix. 225.

" Les faitz Merveilleux de Virgille. Paris, Guill-
Niverd. 8°." In the National Library at Paris, See
the Catal. tom. ii. p. 5. and de Bure, No. 3857.

This note copied in Mr. Scott's Tristrem, p. 318.

See "Melanges d'une grande bibliotheque," torn,
E. p. 181.

See Vincent de Beauvais, Specul. Historiale, v. 117.
lib. xxx. c, 109.

"Eene schone historie Van Virgilius, van zijn
leven, Doot ende van zijn wonderlijcke werken di hy
deede by nigromantien ende by dat behulfe des
Duyvels. T' Amsterdam, by H. S. Muller, 1552."

The whirling of the millstones by the giant in Artus
de Bretagne resembles the "flayls" in Virgilius,
sign. P. i.

The Duke of Marlborough's copy sold for 291. 8#.
June, 1819.

Q. The same as Duke of Eoxburghe which sold for
60 guineas.

And to Mr. Hibbert in whose catal. No, 8400 it is
erroneously called unique, and where it was sold to
Thorpe for 29Z. 18*. 6rf."

PEEFACB. 17

The Bev. W. D. Macray, to whom I am indebted
for the transcript of these notes, informs me that the
title of the volume now in the Bodleian is supplied > in
MS. facsimile, and noted " This is from Mr. Garrick's
<jopy in the Museum. It is very imperfect at the
end. Q. if printed by Copland ?" ; and further, that two
ancient woodcuts, bearing the monogram (P. Gh), and.
one marked " 213. F. D. H," representing Virgilius
hanging in the basket and the sequel, are inserted at
the end of the volume.

tol. 11. c

VIRGILIUS.

THIS BOKE TREAT ETH OF THE LYFE OF VIRGILIUS, AND OF HI8DETH,
AND MANY MARVAYLE8 THAT HE DYD IN I1YS LYFE TYMB
BY WHYCHCRAFTB AND NYORAMANCYE THOROWGH
THE HELPE OF THE DEVYLS OF HELL.

FROM THE EDITION BY DOESBOHCKE.

THE PROLOGE.

This is resonable to wryght the mervelus dedes done by
Virgilius within the cytie of Borne and in other places.

Borne hath be at all tymes of grete name and fame, and they
that there dwell getteth greate worshyp in theyr tyme. Bat
Romulus the emperour of Borne slewe his own broder thorowgh
hate and enuy, notwithstandynge Remus had gyuen oner to
Romulo the cytie of Borne and all the lande therto belongynge:
but Remus caryed with hym all the tresur into Champanien,
and there he apon a ryuer called Vellen, he founde there a
costely and ryche strong towne with hye fayre walles, that was
well repayred within and withoute and with fayer ymages earned
out of stone, and all the fylthe of the towne convayed vnder the
erth into the riuer of Vellen that ranne therby; and this towne
was in that tyme one of the fayreste, and he called it Remus
after his owne proper name.

VIRGILIUS.

How Eomulus cam within the fayer towne of Beynes
that he destroyed, and how he slewe his broder
Eemus that was lorde of Baynes. -

As Eomulus harde say of his broder Eemus, and of
the towne of Baynes, than he was uery heuy ; for the
walles of Baynes was so hygh that a man that stode in
the deche myght nat schote ouer well with a hande
bowe ; and the walles of Borne was so lowe that a man
myght wel lepe ouer, and with no deches.

It fortuned that Bemus went to see his broder
Eomulus at Borne, and toke with hym manye folke
after his estate and byrthe, and left his wyfe in aby-
dynge, in the towne of Baynes in Champanion with a
lytyll chylde or yonge son named Eemus after his owne
name ; and whan he was com before Borne, and sawe
the walles, he sayd three tymes that the walles were to
lowe ; moreouer he sayde with a ronne he wolde lepe

22 VTEGILITTS.

ouer them ; and bye and bye he take a ronne and lept
klene ouer. And whan his broder Eomulus had harde
this, howe his broder had lepte ouer, he sayd that he
had done yll, and therefore he shuld lese his hed. And
as Romulus dyd enter into his broders palayce, than he
toke Eemus, and he with his owne handes smote of his
broders hed, and slew hyni ; and it was nat longe tyme
after that he raysed a great armey of people thorowghe
all his contreye, and prepared bym towardethe towne of
Eaynes in Champanien, and began to set his ordinaunce
towarde the walles of the towne, and dyd destroye the
palayce, towers, and other places to the erthe, in so
muche that he lefbe but a few standynge or none : but
he coulde nat fynde the wyfe of Remus, his suster, for
she was fled away out of the towne, under the erthe at
a false porte to hyr frendes and kynffolke, for she was
one of the greatest borne women that was than there
aboute. And as Eomulus had destroyed the lande and
towne of Eaynes, he departed and went home toward
the cytie of Eome with all his hooste, where he was
receyued rychelye.

Howe the son of Eemus, that also was named Eemus
after his fader, dyd slewe his unkell Eomulus and
afterwarde was made emperoure, and so reyned
emperoure.

Than was the wyfe of Eemus very sadde and morned
very sore when she knew of the dethe of hyr husbond,
and also of the destructyon of the towne of Eaynes

VIRGILIUS. 23

destroyed by the handes of hys brother : and she caused
workemen shulde make the walles ageyne after hyr
broders departyng fro it, insomuche that she made the
towne of Raynes more stronger and fayrer than it was
euer afore, and renewed it rychely after hyr myght and
power : for she was not of so great myght as she was
when her husbonde was alvue. And also this noble
ladye norysshed her chylde well, and within a lytyll
space he began to wexe bygge and stronge, and myghty
anoughe to bere armure. Than sayde his moder to
hym : " My dere son, when wyll you wreke your
faders dethe that your unkell slewe P" and he answered
to his moder: "Within thisiij money thes." And forthe-
with he caused his kynsffolke to reyse theyr people ;
and when they were gathered they departed. He cam
with a great power towarde Borne, and when he cam to
Rome he entered in there at no maner of bodye ayenste
sayinge. And when he was within, he made a crye
that no man should do no comons harme. Than went
he to the emperours palayce ; and when the Emperour
knewe that he was come, he asked counsayl ; and the
senyatours answered, that there was no remedy but
deth ; bycause ye slewe his fader, so shall he ageyne
slee you ; and with that cam in Remus into the palayce
of his unkle Romulus, no body ayenst sayinge ; and
there he saw his unkell afore him stand in his emperly
stole ; than was he inflamed with yre and drewe out his
swerde, and toke his uncle by the here, and smote of
his hed ; and whan it was done, he asked the lordes

24 viEGiLitrs.

and senyatours of Eome, or they wolde thereforre
warre? and they answered all, "nay:" and gaue to
hym the hole empyre and crowned hym as ryght heyer ;
and whan he was emperour he sent for his moder and
she cam to hym.

And than was Eome made with stronge walles and
deches, and than gatte Eome name, and there haunted
many dyuerse nacyons, and they dyd buylde and edefye
many fayre dwellynge places in Rome. This Remus
was a stronge man of bodye, ryche of good, wyse in
counsayll, and had under hym many landes and
lordshyppes. -^

This Eemus had a knyght of his moders behalfe,
that was ryght hardy and bolde in batayle, and he toke
or maryed a wyfe in the cytie of Eome, that was one of
the greatest senyatours dawghters of Eome and hyghest
of lynage. And Eemus reyned not long after, but
dyed, and his sone was made emperoure and reygned
after hym. And this knyght of Champanien, that had
maryed the senyatours dawghter, he made great warre
with hym, and dyd hym very muche harme. This
knyght had one son by his wyfe, that with great
travalynge of laboure was bourne, and there was he
named Virgilius of Vigilo, for by cause that he was
a great space of tyme watched so with men.

Howe Virgilius was sette to schole.

As Virgilius was borne than the towne of Eome
quaked and trembled : and in his youthe he was wyse

VIEftlLIUS. 25

and subtyll, and was put to schole. And shortly after
dyed his fader, and than Virgilius moder wolde no more
marye ayen, for she loued her lord so well. And after
the decese of hyr husbond hyr kynsfolke wold haue put
her fro hyr enherytaunce that she had lyinge with in
and with out Borne, and one of the fayreste castels and
strongest in all the towne or there abowt that could be
emagined or made by any man. And she complayned
often to the emperoure, that was nere of kynne unto hyr
husbonde : but the emperoure was a angery man and
wolde nat here hyr complayntes, also he was nat beloued
of the lordes nor of the comon people ; within short
tyme after he decesyd, and his sone and heyer Persydes
was emperoure after his faders dethe, and ruled after
his own mynde all the lande. And he had all the
Eomans under hym insomuche that he ruled them so
strayghtly.that they were sore a drad of hym.

And Virgilius was at scole at Tolenten, where he
stodyed dyligently, for he was of great understandynge.
Upon a tyme the scholers hadde lycence to goo to play
and sporte them in the fyldes after the vsaunce of the
holde tyme ; and there was also Virgilius therby also
walkynge amonge the hylles all about : it fortuned he
spyed a great hole in the syde of a great hyll wherin he
went so depe that he culde not see no more lyght, and
then he went a lytell ferther therin, and than he sawe
som lyght agayne, and than wente he fourth streyghte :
and with in a lytyll wyle after, he harde a voice that
called, " Virgilius, Virgilius;" and he loked aboute

26 YIBGILIUS.

and he colde nat see no bodye ; than Virgilius spake
and asked, "Who calleth me!" than harde he the voyce
agayne, but he sawe no body ; than saydhe, "Virgilius,
see ye not that lytyll bourde lyinge bysyde you there
marked with that worde?" than answered Virgilius, " I
see that borde well, enough." The voyce sayd, " Doo a
waye that bourd, and lette me oute ther atte." Than
answered Virgilius to the voyce that was under the
lytell borde, and sayd, " Who art thow that talkest me
so !" Than answered the deuyll: " I am a deuyll
coniured out of the body of a certeyne man, and
banysshed here tyll the day of iugement, without that
I be delyuered by the handes of men. Thus, Virgilius,
I pray the delyuer me out of this payn, and I shall
she we unto the many bokes of nygromancy, and howe
thow shalt cum by it lyghtly and knowe the practyse
therein, that no man in the scyence of negromancye shall
pass the ; and moreouer I shall showe and enforme you
so that thou shalt haue all thy desyre, wherby my
thynke it is a great gyfte for so lytyll a doynge, for ye
may also thus all your power frendys helpen, and make
rythe your ennemyes unmyghty. Thorowgh that great
promyse was Virgilius tempted; he badde the fynd
showe the bokes to hym that he myght haue and occupy
them at his wyll. And so the fynde shewed hym, and
than Virgilius pulled open a bourde, and there was
a lytell hole, and therat wrange the deuyll out lyke a
yeel, and cam and stode by fore Virgilius ]yke a bygge
man; therof Virgilius was a stoned and merueyled

VIBGIL1TTS. 27

greatly therof that so great a man myght come out at
so lytell a hole ; than sayd Virgilius, " shulde ye well
passe into the hole that ye cam out of?" st Te, I shall
well," sayd the deuyll. — "I holde the beste plegge
that I have, ye shall not do it." " Well," sayde the
deuyll, "thereto I consente." And than the deuyll
wrange hym selfe into the lytell hole ayen, and as he
was there in Virgilius kyuered the hole ageyn with the
bourd close, and so was the deuyll begyled, and myght
not there come out ayen, but there abydeth shytte styll
therm." Than called the deuyll dredefully to Virgilius,
and sayd " "What haue ye done?" Virgilius answered,
" Abyde there styll to your day apoynted." And fro
thensforth abydeth he there. And so Virgilius becam
very connynge in the practyse of the blacke scyence.

It was so that the moder of Virgilius wexed olde in
so muche that she loste her herynge; than called she
one of hyr seruauntes, and sayd to hym, " Te must to
Tolleten, and tell Virgilius my sone that he come and
redresse his enherytaunce within and without Rome,
and gyue up the schole, for he shulde be by ryght one
of the greateste of all Rome." The messenger departed
and wente toward Tolleten where Virgilius was, and
whan he cam there, he founde Virgilius techyng and
lernynge the greattest lordes of the lande, and other
landes also : for I ensure ye, he was a fayr and a wyse
yonge man, and conynge in the scyence of negromancy
aboue all men than luyuynge. He salued Virgilius,
and shewed unto hym all the mater that he cam for ;

28 VIEGILITJS.

and whan Virgilius harde all the matter howe it was,
he waB very heuy, not for the good, but for his moder ;
for Virgilius had good anough ; he rewarded the mes-
senger, and also sende his moder iiij somers laden with
money, and with other costely iewels, and sende hyr
also one whyte horse ; and so the messengre toke his
leue of Virgilius, and so departed. And Virgilius
abydyng styll in Tolenten emagened in. his mynde
howe he myght beste conuey the rest of his good to
Eome and that he myght followe. And whan he
ordeyned and set in order all the rest, he toke his leue
and departed fro Tolenten towarde Eome, with many
of his scholers with him. Whan he cam to Eome to
his moder, he salewed hys moder, and she hym ; for
she was glad of his commynge, for she saw hym not
afore by the space of xij years a fore.

Howe Virgilius dyde make his complaynt to the
emperour as he was com to Eome.

As Virgilius was com to Eome he was receyued ryght
worshypfullye of his power kynsfolke, and not of the
ryche, for they withhelde his landes oute of his hande ;
for that cause was he nat welcome to them, but were
angery of his comyng, for they wolde nat ete with
hym nor drynke with hym. Than was Virgilius angery,
and than gaue he to all his power kyndsfolke that
with helde nothynge fro his moder, landes, harneyse,
horses, syluer and golde and other thynges. And he
gaue to his naybours great thankes for the kyndnes

TIBGILIUS. 29

that they showed to his moder in his absence ; after
this dyd Virgilius abyde longe tyme with hys moder,
tyll the tyme that the emperour reysed a newe custom
or taxe ; than went all the lordes to the emperour that
helde any landeof hym, and also Virgilius with all his
company and many kynsfolke and frendes ; and whan
he cam before hym, he salewed hym, and shewed unto
hym howe he was enheryted of his landes amd tene-
mentes, and of those that with helde it, and desyred
that he myght haue it ageyne. Than answered the
Emperour, that he shulde take thereof counsayll : and
forthwith he went to counsayll with them that loued
not Virgilius: and they answered to the Emperour ;
" Me thynketh that the land is well deuyded to them
that hath it, for they may helpe you in your nede ;
what nedeth you for to care for the dysherytynge
of one schole mayster ? and byd hym take hede and
loke of his schole, for he hath no ryght to any lande
here aboute the citie of Rome ;" and thus (they) sayd
that he must take pacyence by the space of iiij. or v.
yere that they myght examyne with in our selfe
whether ye be ryght eyer or no. And with that
answere was Virgilius very angry, and sayd that he
shulde be auenged. And whan he cam home he sende
for all his poor kynsfolke and fryndes and put them in
his houses and dwellynge places that he hadde within
Eome, and purueyed them of mete and drynke, and
byd them make mery tyll Julio that the corne and frute
is rype. And whan it was rype, Virgilius by his

30 VIEGILIUS.

negromancy dyde caste the ayer ouer all the frute and
come of his landes that his enemy es hylde fro hym, and
caused it to be gathered and brought in to his howses,
that none of his enemy es had none thereof. In this
maner of wyse dyd Virgilius deseyue his enemy es of all
the frute, and corne, insomuch that they had not on
penny s worth of that goods that they witheld fro hym.
And whan Virgilius enemyes sawe the frute so gathered,
they assembled a great power, and cam towarde
Virgilius to take hym and smy te of his hed ; and when
they were assembled, they were so stronge, that the
emperour for fere fled out of Rome, for they were xij.
seniatours that had all the worlde under them ; and
Virgilius had had ryght he had ben one of the xij. but
they had dysheryted hym and his moder ; and when
Virgilius knewe of theyr commynge, he closed all his
landes with the ayer rounde about all his lande, that
none lyuynge creature myght there come in to dwelle
ayenst his wyll or pleasure.

Howe the eraperoure of Borne beseged Virgilius beynge

in his castell.

As Virgilius enemyes cam to destroye and take hym,
and when they cam before his castell, he closed theym
with the aeyer that they had no myght to gowe nor for
warde nor back ward, but abyde styll, where of they
merueyled ; and than Virgilius answered, "Te cum to
dysheryt me, but ye shall nat ; and knowe ye well that
you shall haue no profyte of the frutes as longe as I

VIRGILIUS. 31

lyue ; and ye maye tell to the emperour that I shall
tarry iiij. or v. yeres tyll he take counsayll. I desyne
not to plete in the lawe, but I shall take my good
where I fynde it ; and also tell the emperour I care
nat for all his warre nor all that he can do to me."
Than returned Yirgilius and made ryche all his
poure kynsfolke. And whan Virgilius was returned,
than wente they home and knewe nat what they
shoulde do ; than cam they to the emperour and com-
playned of Virgilius, and sayde, that Virgilius sayde,
that he set nat by the emperoure and all that he coude
make; and when the emperoure harde this, he was
greatly amoued and sore anangered, and sayd, that I
shall brynne and set on fyer all his howses, and also I
shall smyte of his hedde ; and there with all not longe
taryinge, he caused his lordes and knyghtes that helde
lande of hym, that they shulde reyse all theyr men of
armes that they had under them, to be redy at a day at
his commaundement ; and at the day apoynted the
emperour and all his hooste were assembled ; they
tooke theyr way towarde the place of Virgilius, that
was rounde aboute well walled and closed with aeyr ;
that whan the emperour cam before the walles with all
his hoste, they myght not gowe nor forwarde nor back-
warde. And than went fro his castell fourthe Virgilius,
and with his negromancy , he made also a lyght in suche
maner that they coulde nat goo forwarde nor returne,
but stande styll ; and he made also by his cunnyn, that
the emperour thought that he was closed rounde aboute

32 yibgilius;

with a great water, in so muche that they myght nat
come to the castell, nor for to come fro the castell, but
stode styll ; and thus dyd Virgilius serue the emperoure
and all hys hooste ; and moreouer cam Virgilius to the
emperoure, and sayde, "Lorde emperoure, ye have no
power with all your strength to do me harme nor my
landes also ; for be ryght ye shulde make of me as one
of your greatest lordes and nearest of your kynred, for
I at your nede maye helpe you more than al your
other folke." Than answered the Emperour to Virgi-
lius : "You begyler, may I ons get you under my
• handes, I wyll geue the that thow hast deserued."
Than answered Virgilius, and sayd, "Lorde emperour,
I fere you nat, but thynke you well, that I shall tame
you well a nowghe, that ye shall be glad to know me
for one of your kynsfolke and of your blode ; but ye
wolde dysheryte me, but ye shall not." Than caused
Virgilius muche mete to be dressed by twene his howse
and the hoste, that the emperour and his. folke myght
se it, and howe they dressed it ; but they myght haue
none thereof but the smoke or reke, for they of the hoste
was shy t in with the aeyr as thowghe it hadde ben. a
great water. And so dyd Virgilius serue the emperour
and his folke, nor was there no body in his hoste that
coulde fynde any remedy to helpe them there agayn.

Upon a tyme as they were in that thraldome afore
the castell, there cam a man that colde skyll in the
scyence of negromancy, and cam a fore the emperoure,
and sayd, that he wolde by hys practyce'make slepe all

VIB6ULIUS. 33

Virgilius folke ; and bo he dyd, in so muche that Virgi-
lius his selfe myght scant with drawe hym fro slepynge ;
than was he sorye and wyste nat what to do, for the
emperours folke was delyuered, and began to come
upon Virgilius walles ; And whan Virgilius saw that, he %
loked in his boke of negromancye where in he was very
parfeyte, and there he founde in what maner he myght
delyuer his folke fro slepe ; and than he cuBgered that
he made the emperoure stand sty 11 agene, that he myght
nat remeue out of his place, nor all his folke, nor the
mayster of negromancy myght nat remeue nor styrre,
as thowgh they were deed : and they that were upon the
ladders, one fote uppe, another downe, and so stode
styll, and also some stode with one foot on the lader,
and another upon the wall, and so for to stand styll till
it pleased Virgilius. Whereof the emperour was sore
auexed and angery, and asked his mayster if they shulde
stande styll in that maner ? and he gaue hym no an*
swere, but he spake to Virgilius and sayd that he wulde
showe upon hym his cunnynge. And than Virgilius
answered, and bad hym do his beste, for I set nat a
strawe by you nor all that you can do to me. And thus
helde Virgilius the emperour and all his folke closed in
this maner with the ayer, by space of a day. And in
the nyght came Virgilius to the emperour, and sayd ;
" It is a shame for so noble a prynce thus to stop the
way, and take upon hym that he can nat do."

Than sayd the emperour to VirgiHus : u Melpe me
oute of this daunger, and I shall restore ageyne to you

VOL. II. n

34 YIRGILIUS.

all your landes and tenementes, and haue all thynges
at your owne wylL" Than answered Virgilius to the
emperour, " I wyll delyuer you out of this daunger so
that ye wyll gyue me grace.' ' "Ye, by my crowne,
and I knowe you for on of my kynred and I dessyre
to haue you with me in my felawshyp." And than
Virgilius put a waye the closynge, and reseyued the
emperour and all his folke into his castell, where
golde and ryches were plenty, and serued them with
mete and drynke ryght plentyously, after theyr de-
gre, of the deyntyest and strangest that myght be
gotte, that they sawe neuer afore. And the emperour
was there more rychely serued than euer he was before
or after. And Virgilius rewarded euery persone after
his degree, and with manye costely and meruelouse
gyftes.

Howe the Emperour restored ageyne unto Virgilius all
his enherytaunce and gooddes, and gaue to hym
many other thynges.

Than toke they leue of Virgilius and retourned home
ageyne ; and whan they were returned home the empe-
rour gaue to Virgilius his land ageyn and all that he
asked, and (he) was the greattest lord of the emperours
coun8ayll. After that it hapenyd that Virgilius was
enamoured of a fayre ladye, the fayrest in all Rome.
Virgilius made a craft in egromancy that tolde hir all
his mynde: when the ladye knewe his mynde, she
thowght in hyr selfe to deseyue hym, and sayde, if he

VIRGILIUS. 35

wyll come at mydnyght to the castell walle ; she shulde
lette downe a basket with stronge eordes, and there to
drawe hym vppe at hyr wyndowe, and so to lye by hyr,
and haue his pleasur ; and with this answere was Virgi-
lius very glad with that answer, and sayd, he shulde doo
it with a good wyll.

Howe the gentyl woman pulled vppe Virgilius, and ho we
she let hym hange in the basket when he was halfe
way vp to hyr wyndowe, and howe the people won-
dered and mocked hym.

A day was set that Virgilius sholde come to a tower
that stode in the market place of Rome, and in all the
towne was none so hygh; and at the day apoynted
Virgilius cam to the tower, and the gentyl woman was
therat waytynge, and as she sawe hym there stande, she
let downe the basket at the wyndowe ; and when it was
done Virgilius went in, and whan he was therein, she
pulled hym up tyll that he cam halfe waye, and there
she let him hange, and made the corde faste. Than
the gentylwoman spake ; " Te be deceyued, and I shall
let you hange tyll to morowe, for it is market day, that
all the folke may wonder of you and of your dyshoneste
that you wolde haue do, and lye by me ; and there-
withall she shyt her wyndowe, and let hym hange tyll
the mornynge that it was daye, tyll all the men in Rome
wyst it, and also the emperour that was ashamed, and
sent for the gentylwoman, and bad hyr let hym downe,

36 TIRGILIUS.

and so she dyd ; and whan he was downe, he was
ashamed, and sayd, that shortly after he wolde be
auenged on hyr ; and so went home to his gardayne that
was the fayrest that stode within Borne. Than toke he
his bohes, and by his connynge put out all the fyer that
was in Borne, and none of them without myght bryng
in fyer into the cytie ; and this dured by the space of a
daye and a nyght ; but Virgilius had anowghe, and no
body els had, nor myght not make no fyer within Borne.

How Virgilius put out all the fyer of Borne.

The emperoure and all his barons and the comons of
Borne merveyled that there was no fyer in al the cytie,
and than they thowght in theyr myndes that Virgilius
had put it out. Than the emperour sent for Virgilius,
ajid prayd hym of his counsayll that men myght haue
fyer ageyne. Than ye must cause a scaffolde to be
made in the mydle of the market-place, and than ye
muste set the gentylwoman in hyr smocke that hynge
me in the basket yesterday ; and than lett make a crye
thorowgh all the cytie of Borne, who so wyll haue ony
fyer must come to the scaffolde in the market-place, and
there betwene the legges of the gentylwoman there,
they shuld haue fyer, or otherwyse none : and knowe
that one the other can gyue none, nor sell none ; and
thus ye must c|o if ye wyll haue ony fyer. When they
harde this, they cam with great multytude to the
scaffolde.

YIBGILITJS. 37

Howe the gentylwoman was put upon the scaffolde, and
howe the folke of the towne went and fetched fyer at
hyr tayle, and also lyght candels betwene hyr legges.

The emperoure and all his lordes sawe that there was
no other remedye but they muste nedes do after
Virgilius counsayll : he dyd cause a scaffolde to be
made in the marked place, and caused the gentyll
woman to be set there on in hyr smocke ; and there
men fetche fyer betwene hyr legges ; the pore men
with candels and strawe, and the ryche men lyghted
they theyr torches. Thre dayes must the gentylwoman
stande in that manere or els they shulde haue no fyer.
And after the thyrde day went the gentylwoman home
sore ashamed, for she knewe well that Virgilius had
done that violence to hyr. -

Within a whyle after maryed Virgilius a wyfe : and
when that was done, Virgilius made a merueylous
paleyce with iiij corners : and as it was made, he layed
the emperoure therin in one of the corners, and herde
all that the men dyd say in that quarter. And in
lykewise dyd he bryng hym in the other iij quarters,
and so he harde what they sayde in the other quarters
of Some, and thus gowyng by the iiij quarters harde he
what they sayde thorowe all Rome ; the myght nat
speke so Becretly but he harde it.

Howe Virgilius made saluatio Rome.
The emperour asked of Virgilius howe that he myght

38 VIEGILIUS.

make Eome prospere and haue many landes under them,
and knowe when any lande wolde ryse agen theym ;
and Virgilius sayd to the emperoure, "I woll within
short space that do." And he made vpon the Capitolium,
that was the towne house, made with caruede ymages^
and of stone, and that he let call Saluacio Eome ; that is
to say, this is the Saluacyon of the cytie of Eome ; and
he made in the com pace all the goddes that we call
mamettes and ydolles, that were under the subiection
of Eome ; and euery of the goddes that there were
had in his hande a bell ; and in the mydle of the godes
made he one god of Eome. And when so euer that
there was any lande wolde make ony warre ageynst
Rome, than wolde the godes tourne theyr backes
towarde the god of Eome ; and than the god of the
lande that wolde stande up ageyne Eome clynked his
bell solongethathe hathe in his hand, tyll the senatours
of Eome hereth it, and forthwith they go there and see
what lande it is that wyll warre a gaynst them ; and so
they prepare them, and goeth a geyne them and
subdueth theym. This forsayde token knewe the men
of Carthago, that was sore a greued for the great harme
that the Eomans had done them. And they toke a
pryuay counseyll in what manner they myght destroy
that worke. Than thought they in there mynde to
sende iij men out and gaue them great multytude of
golde and syluer ; and these iij men toke theyr leue of
the lordes and went towarde the cytie of Eome, and
when they were come to Eome they reported themselfe

yibchlius. 39

sothesayers and trewe dremers. Vpon a tyme wente
these iij men to a hyll that was within the cytie, and
there they buryed a great potte of money very depe in
the erthe, and when that was done and kyuered ageyne,
they went to the brygge of Tyber and let fall in a
certayne place a great barell with golden pens ; and
when this was done these thre men went to the
seniatours of Eome, and sayd ; " Worshypfull lordes,
we haue this nyght edremed, that with in the fote of a
hyll here with in Borne is a great pot with money ; wyll
ye lordes graunt to us, and we shall do the coste to
seke there after ?" and the lordes consented and than
they toke laberours and delued the money out of the
erthe. And when it was done, they went a nother tyme
to the lordes, and sayde ; " Worshypful lordes we haue
also dremed that in a certeyne place of Tyber lyeth a
barell full of golden pens ; if that you wyll graunte to
us that we shall go seke it ;" and the lordes of Eome
thynkynge no dyscepte, graunted to those sothesayers,
and badde them do that that they shulde do there best.
And than the sothe sayers was glad. And than the hyred
shyppes and men, and went toward the place where it
was ; and when they were come they sowght in everye
place there about, and at the laste founde the barelfull
of golden pens, whereof they were glade ; and than they
gaue to the lordes costely gyftes. And than to come to
theyr purpose, they cam to the lordes a geyne, and
sayde to them : " Worshypfull lordes, we haue dremed
a geyne that under the foundacyon of Capitolium, there

40 TIBGILItTS.

where Saluatio Borne standeth, be xij barelles full of
golde ; and pleasyeth you lordes that you wolde graunt
us lycence, it shall be to your great auantage ;" and the
lordes styrred with couytayse graunted them, bycause
ij tymes a fore they told trewe ; whereof they were glad,
and gatte laberours, and began to dygge under the
fundacyon of Saluatio Rome : and when they thought
that they had dygged a noughe they departed fro Borne,
and the next daye folowynge fell that house downe,
and all the worke that Virgilius had made ; and so the
lordes knewe that the were deseyued, and were sorow-
full, and after that hade nat no fortune as they had
a fore tymes.

Howe the emperour asked counsayU of Virgilius howe
the nyght ronners and yll doers myght be ryd out
of the stretes.

The emperour had manye complayntes of the nyght
ronners and theues, and also of great murderynge of
people in the nyght, in so muche that the emperour
asked counsayU of Virgilius, and sayd : " That he hath
great complayntes of the theues that ronnyth by nyght
for they kyll many men ; what counsayll Virgilius is
best to be done ?" Than answered Virgilius to the
emperour, " Ye shall let make a horse of coper, and a
coper man apon his backe, hauynge in his handes a
flayll of yron, and that horse, ye shall do brynge a fore
the towne howse, and then ye shall lett crye that a man
fro henseforth at x. of the clocke shulde ryng a bell,

TIBGILIUB. 41

find he that after the bell was ronge in the strete
shulde be slayne, no worke thereof be done." And whan
this crye was made the roffjans set nat a poynt, but
kept the stretes as they dyd a fore, and wolde nat let
therfore ; and as sone as the bell was ronge at x. of the
clocke, than lept the horse of coper with the coper man
thorowghthe stretes of Borne, insomuche that he lefte
nat one strete in Rome unsowght ; and as sone as he
found any man or woman in the strete he slewe them
starke deed, insomuche that he slewe a boue CC. per-
sones or more. And this seying, the theues and nyght
ronners howe they mygbt fynde a remedy therefore
thought in theyr myndes to make a dragge with a ladder
theron ; and as they wolde gowe out be nyght they
toke theyr ladders with them, and when they harde the
horse come, than caste they the dragge upon the howses,
and so went up a pon theyr ladders to the top of the
howses, so that the coper man myght nat toche them ;
and so a byd they styll in theyr wycked doyng. Than
came they a gene to the emperoure and complayned,
and than the emperoure asked counsayll of Virgilius ;
and Virgilius answered and sayd, •' that he muste get
to coper houndes and set them of eyther syde of the
coper horse, and let crye a geyne that no body after the
bell is ronge shulde departe oute of theyr howse that
wolde lyue." But the nyght walkers carede not a poynt
for that crye ; but when they harde the horse comynge,
with theyr ladders clymed upon the howse, but the
dogges lept after, and tered them all to peces ; and thus-

42 VIEGILIUS.

the noyse went thorowgh Borne, in so muche that no
body durst in the nyght go in the strete, and thus all
the nyght walkers were destroyed.

Howe Virgilius made a lampe that at all tymes brenned.

Fob profeyte of the comon people, Virgilius on a great
myghty marbell pyller, dyd make a brygge that cam
vp to the paleyce, and so went Virgilius well vp the
pyller oute of the paleyce ; that paleyce and the pyller
stode in the mydde of Rome ; and vpon this pyller
made he a lampe of glasse that allwaye byrned without
gowyng out, and no body lnyght put it out ; and this
lampe lyghtened ouer all the cy tie of Home fro the one
corner to the other, and there was nat so lytella strete
but it gaue suche lyghtthat semed ij torches there
had stande ; and vpon the walles of the pal ay ce made he
a metall man that helde in his hande a metall bowe that
poynted euer upon the lampe for to shote it out ; but
alway burned the lampe and gaue lyght ouer all Rome^
And vpon a tyme went the burgeyses daughters to play
in the paleyse and beheld the metall man ; and one of
them asked in sporte, why he shat nat ? and than she
cam to the man and with hyr hande toched the bowe,
and than the bolte flew oute, and brake the lampe that
Virgilius made ; and it was wonder that the mayden
went nat out of her mynde for the great fere she had,
and also the other burgeyses daughters that were in hyr
companye, of the great stroke that it gaue when it hyt
the lampe, and when they sawe the metall man so

VIKG1UUS. 43

swyftly ronne his waye : and neuer after was he no
more sene; and this forsayd lampe was abydynge
byrnynge after the deth of Virgilius by the space of
C.C.C. yeres or more.

How Virgilius made a orcharde by the fountayne, the
fayrest and goodlyest that euer culde be founde in all
the worlde.

Great wonder dyd Virgilius in his tyme ; for after
that palayce he made an horcharde wherin he set all
maner of trees berynge frute, and also many herbes
growynge in that yarde. And as the tyme was, sawe
men dayly, rype frute, fayre blossoms, full plenty ous.
In the myddell of the orcharde was a fayer clere
fountayne, the fayrest that euer was sene ; and in this
orchard was many dyuers of byrdes syngyng, for they
myght well cum in, but the culde no more flye out
ageyne, for it was closed in suche with the ayer ; and
men harde also theyr byrdes syng that was within, and
culde not goo forth. Also he had in his orcharde all
maner of tame bestes that were profitable for men :
also he made of the water that ran out of the fountavn
a standynge water about the trees, the clerest that
myght be, and there in was of all maner of fysshe that
culde be thought. Also in this orcharde all maner of
joyfulnes, both of trees, herbes, fowles, and bestes
thereof that men myght thynke, or be immagened by
mannes reasons. Also he dyd make greater thynges
than all this ; for he made a vaute or seller in the

44 VIRGILIUS.

orcharde, the fayreste that myght be made or thought
by mannes reason, whiche seller he made for to put in
his money and ryches that he had ; for he was so ryche,
and so great multitude that he knewe no ende ; and he
set ij metall men before the dore to kepe it, and in eche
hande a great hamer, and therwith they smyte vpon a
anuilde, one after the other, insomuche that the byrdes
that flye ouer hereth it, and by and bye falleth there
down deed ; and otherwyse had Virgilius not his good
kepte.

Howe Virgilius made his wyfe a ymage.

A image made Virgilius a hye in the ayer that myght
nat fall ; and the people of Rome myght nat open
noder wyndowe nor doer but they must nedes see it.
And this image had this properte, that no woman after
she had seen the image had no luste to do bodely lust ;
and therefore the women had great enuy, and they
compleyned theym to Virgilius* wyfe that they theyr
sporte and dalyinge had loste and prayed hyr that she
wolde destroy that image and make it fall. And than
wayted Virgilius' wyfe hir tyme, and went vp the
brygge of the ayer and cast downe the image ; and than
dyd the women theyr wyl. And when Virgilius cant
and founde his image downe, he was very angery, and
sayd to his selfe, that it shulde nat auayil them, for he
wolde set it up ageyne ; and swore that he shulde know
who had cast it downe ; and he set it ageyne, and asked
his ladye, and she had casts downe. it? and she

VIRGILIU8* 45

sayd, " Naye." And than cam the women ageyne to
Virgilius' wyfe, and sayd, " That it was worse than it
was before, and prayed hyr, that she shulde caste it
downe ageyne ;" and than VirgiHus went pryuyley into
. „£S mjM » w/ ft. h. J ii Wee
howe the women had complayned them to hyr. And
than went Virgilius' wyfe and caste downe the image ;
and Virgilius that had hyd hym, and sawe howe his
wyfe had caste it downe, and with a anger wold haue
east her after with the ymage ; and he sayd, ts The
deuyll satysfye you, for I dyd it for the beste ; but I
shall neuer more medyll, but I shall let the women do
theyr wyll ;" and fro thenseforthe began Virgilius to
hate his wyfe.

Howe Virgilius had his pleasure with the Sodans

daughter.

Often tymes herde Virgilius tell of the fayrnes of the
Sodans dawghter, insomuche that he was enamoured of
hyr, thoughe he neuer sawe hyr ; than by his connynge
made he a brygge in the ayer, and went ouer to hyr,
and when he had spoke with hyr, and showed hyr his
mynde, than she consented to hym, notwithstandyng
she neuer sawe hym afore. And she sayde/on a
nyghte that she wolde departe with hym into his
countre, and knowe what manor a man he were, and
what dwellyng he had. Than answered Virgilius, and
sayde to hyr ; " What wyll I doo : but ye shall passe
ouer many landes, and you shall not trede in them."

4tQ VIBGILIUS.

Than caryed he hyr ouer into his owne lande, ouer the
teygge that he had made in the ayer, and bo browght
hyr to Borne ; and when he was at home, he asked hyr
" If she sawe no body ?" and she said, u No, but hym
alone." And thanne showed Virgilius to hyr hys palayce
and orchard, and the metall men that stode styll a pece
smytynge : and he shewed to hyr also all his treasur,
and he presented it to hyr ; and she wolde nat reseyue
it, sayinge, " That she had to muche of hyr faders to
kepe." And Virgilius helde her in his orcherde as
longe as it please hym. And as the Soudan founde nat
is dawghter he was sorofull, for because he woste nat
where she was become ; and they sowght all about, but
in no place culde they fynde hyr.

Howe Virgilius brought agene the Sodans daughter into
hyr faders lande, and howe he founde hyr slepynge
vpon hyr bedde.

"When the Sodans dawghter had byd longe with
Virgilius in his orcharde, than desyred she to goo home
to hyr faders lande. And than toke Virgilius the
Sodans dawghter in his hannes, and caste hyr vpon the
brygge in the ayer, and he his selfe brought hyr to hyr
faders palayce, and put hyr in hyr chamber vpon hyr
bed ; and than he betoke hyr to the goddes, and so
returned he home to his place towarde Borne. And in
the begynnynge of the day arose the Sodan that was
sore vexed for the lesynge of his dawghter ; and than
cam one of hyr chamberlaynes to the emperoure, and

VIRGILIUS. 47

tolde hym howe his dawghter was come ageyne, and
lay vpon hyr bed and slepte. Than cam he to hyr
hastely and asked hyr where she had bene, and howe
she was come there ageyne ? " Fader," sayd she, " there
was a fayre man of a straunge land, and he brought me
thorowgh the ayer to his paleyce and orcharde ; but I
haue nat spoke to man nor woman but to hym alone,
and I knowe nat what lande it is." The Sodan answered
and sayde to hyr, " That she shulde brynge some of the
frute of that cuntrey with hyr:" and shesaydeshe wolde.
And within a wyle cam Virgilius to Baby lone, and toke
the Sodans daughter with hym ageyne, and so departed
ageyne to his cuntrey with hyr, and kepte hir longe as
pleased hym ; and when she departed ageyne she toke
with hir walnottes and other frute. And when she
was come home she shewed hyr father the walnuttes
and other frutes of the lande. " Ha, ha," sayde he,
" it is on the syde of France that so often (he) hath
borne you away."

Howe Virgilius was taken there.

The Sodan cam upon a tyme to his dawter and sayde ;
" My daughter, when he commethe agene to you that
was wonte to careye you awaye, gyue to hym this drynke
that I shall gyue to you lor he slepe with you,] but
drynke ye none thereof, I warne you : for when he
hath drunkyn thereof he shall slepe, and when he is
a slepe let me know therof : than shall we take hym,
and know fro whens he is." And the lady dyd as she

48 VIRGILIU&.

was coininauniled. And whan Virgilius was com, she
gaue hym to drynke of the drynke that hir fader gaue
hyr : and when he had drunke, he slepte, and so was
taken. Than was Virgilius brought to the Sodan, and
the lordes, and also the dawter of the Sodan. And than
the Sodan showed his knyghtes that that was the man
that had stolen his dawghter away : and than he sayd to
Virgilius : " Ye be welcome, for your pleasure that ye
haue had, ye shall suffer dethe." Than answered
Virgilius to the Sodan : " I wolde that I had neuer sene
hir, and if that ye wyll let me gowe I shall neuer come
ageyne :" than answered the Sodan and the lordes :
" That shall we nat do ; but for youre myssedede ye
shall suffer a shameful! dethe." Than answered the
Sodans dawghter, " Yf ye put hym to deth I shall
suffer deth with hym." Than answered the Sodan :
" Therto I consente, for ye shall be burned with hym."
Than answered Virgilius, " That shall you nat do with
all the strength and myghfc that ye can do, thoughe ye
be of so great power."

Howe Virgilius cam out and led with hym the fayer
lady the Sodans daughter, and how he founded the
towne of Naples.

"Whan Virgilius harde of this, he made with his
cunnynge than the Sodan and all his lordes (thynk)
that the great ryuer of Babylon was in the myddell
among them ranne, and that they swemed, and laye,
and spronge lyke duckes, and thus toke Virgilius with

VIRGILIUS. 49

hym the fayre lady upon the brygge in. the ayer. And
when they were bothe upon the brygge, he delyuered
the Sodan fro the ryuere and all the lordes, and than
they sawe Virgilius caray awaye his dawghter ouer the
see upon a brygge in the ayer, wher of he merueyled
and was very sorye, and wyste nat what to do, for he
culde nat remedy it. And in this maner dyd he conuey
the Sodans dawghter ouer the see to Rome. And
Virgilius was sore enamored of that lady. Than he
thought in hys mynde, howe he myght mareye hyr, and
thoughte in his mynde to founde in the myddes of the
see a fayer towne with great landes belongyng to it :
and so he dyd by his cunnynge, and called it Napells,
and the fiindacyon of it was of egges ; and in that
towne of Napells he made a tower with iiij corners,
and in the toppe he set a napyll upon a yron yarde,
and no man culde pull away that apell without he brake
it : and thorowghe that yron set he a botel, and on that
botel set he a egge ; and he henge the apell by the
stauke upon a cheyne, and so hangyth it styll. And
whenne the egge styrreth so shulde the towne of Napels
quake, and whan the egge brake than shulde the towne
synke. When he had made an ende he lette call it
Napels. And in this towne he layde a part of his treasur
that he had, therin : and also set therin his louer, the
fayer lady the Sodans dawghter : and he gaue to her the
towne of Napels and all the landes therto belongynge,to
hir use and hyr chyldren. Andwithin short whyle after,
he maryed her to a sertayne lorde or knyght of Spayn.

VOL. II. B

50 VIRGILIUS.

Within shorte wyle after, it fortuned that the empe-
rour had a great fantasy to the towne of NapeUs, for it
bare the name in the tyme for one of the fayrest in the
world : and it lay also in the fayrest market place
aboute Borne. Than secretly sende the emperour letters
to all his lordes that were under hyra, that they shoulde,
as shortely as they myght, rayse theyr folke, and to
come to Rome for to besege the towne of Napels ; and
so they dyd, insomuche that they assembled a great
companye, and wente towarde the towne of Napels and
destroyed all afore hym. And when he was come
to Napels he beseiged it. And the knyght that maryed
the lady that was within Napels defended the towne
nobely ageynste the emperoure and all his hoste. And
in the meane wyle sente this knyght a messengere to
Virgilius, whiche tolde hym all howe the emperour
beseged the towne of Napels: wherwith Virgilius was
angery, and sent worde that the knyght shulde nat set
be hym nat all his hoste, for I shall prouyde well
a nough for you : and so departed the messenger to
Napels.

Howe the emperour beseged the towne of Napels. .

And when Virgilius knewe that the emperour beseged
Napels, than made he all the fresshe water to be lyke
rayne, in suche maner that the emperours folke had
neuer a drop of water and they x>f Napels had a noughe ;
and in the meane season reysed Virgilius his hoste, and
cam towarde the emperoure to Napels. But the empe-

VIHGILITTS, 51

rour myght no lenger taray, for the horse and men
dyed for faute of water, and so he loste a great parte of
theym. Than the emperoure seynge this, departed
home ageyn to the cytie of Rome, all eschamed and
dyscumfyt ; and as he returned homewarde, in the waye,
he met with Yirgilius comynge with all his companye
towarde Napels. And when Yirgilius sawe the empe-
roure, he cam to hym, and salued hym in this manere :
" O noble emperoure, howe fortuned this to you, that
be so nooble a prynce as you be, to gyue up the seage
of Napels, and to returne home agene to the cytie of
Borne, all dyscumfit, without doynge any harme at all
so schortly?" than wyste the emperoure well that
Virgilius mocked hym, and he was therwith very
angery. And than went Yirgilius to Napels, and he
caused the lordes of the towne to make a othe that they
shulde beyre no Romans within the forsayde towne.

Howe Virgilius dyd strengthe the towne of Napels
with scholers and merchauntes.

As Virgilius had reseyued the othes of the lordes of
Napels than returned he ageyne to Rome, and feched
his bokes" and other mouable goodes, and browght it
to Napels, and let his good a lone that he had shetin
the seller. And his dwellynge he gaue to his frendes to
kepe, and his dwellynge places, and so departed to
Napels ; there he made a schole and gaue therto much
landes, that euery scholer a bydynge and gowyng to
schole had lande to lyue on of the towne ; and they thai;

52 TIEOTLITJS.

gaue vp the schole, they loste the lande : and there
cam many fro Tuleten to schole. And when he had
ordeyned the towne well with scholers, and than made
he a warme bath that euery man myght bathe hym in
that wolde ; and that bathe is there to this tyme, and it
^\ was the fyrste bathe that euer was. And after this
y made he a brygge the fayrest that euer man sawe, and

there myght men se all maner of fayer shyppes that
belonged to merchannsedyse, and all other thynges of
the see. And the towne in those days was the fayrest
and noblest in all the worlde. And in this schole
aforesayde dyde Virgilius rede the great conynge and
scyaunce of egromancy, for he was the conyngest that
euer was a fore, or after, in that scyence. And within
schorte space his wyfe dyed, and she had neuer no
chyldren by hym. And moreouer aboue all men he
loued scholers, and gaue muche moneye to bye bokes
with all, and thus he ruled them ryght nobely, for he
myght do it ryght well, for he was one of the greatest
borne men of all the world, and had beene the greateste
lorde of all Rome.

Howe Virgilius made in Rome a metall serpente.

Than made Virgilius at Eome a metall serpente with
his cunnynge, that who so euer put his hande in the
throte of the serpente, was to swere his cause ryght and
trewe ; and if hys cause were false he shulde nat
plucke his hande out a geyne : and if it were trewe they
shulde plucke it out a geyne without any harme doynge.

VIBGIUUS. 53

So it fortuned that there was a knyght of Luinbardye
that mystrusted his wyfe with one of his men that was
moost set by in the conseyte of his wyfe : but she
excused hyr selfe ryght noblye and wysely. And she
consented to goo with hym to Rome to that serpent,
and there to take hyr othe that she was not gylty
of that, that he put apon hyr. And therto consented
the knyght : and as they were bothe in the carte, and
also hyr man with hyr, she say d to the man ; that when
he cam to Rome, that he shulde clothe hym with a
foles-cote, and dysgyse hym in suche maner that they
shulde nat knowe hym, and so dyd he ; and when the
day was come that he shulde come to the .serpent, he
was there present. And Virgilius knowinge the falsenes
of the woman by his cunnynge of egromancy, and than
sayd Virgilius to the woman : u "With drawe your othe
and swere nat ;" but she wolde nat do after hym, but
put hyr hande into the serpentes mouthe : and when
hyr hande was in, she sware before hyr husbande that
she had no more to do with hym than with that fole,
that stode hyr by : and by cause that she sayd trowthe
she pulled out hyr hande a geyne out of the throte of
the serpent nat hurt ; and than departed the knyght
home and trusted hyr well euer after. And Virgilius
hauyng therat great spyte and anger that the woman
hade so escaped, destroyed the serpent: for thus
scaped the lady a waye fro that great daunger. And
than spake Virgilius, and sayde : that the women be

54

VIRGILIUS.

ryght wyse to enmagen ungracyouseneB, but in good-
ness they be but innocentes.

Howe Virgilius dyed.

Thus as Virgilius in his life had done many maruylous
and sotyll thynges, and also had promysed to the
emperour many other dyuerse thynges and meruylouse :
for he promysed to make the trees and spyces to bere
finite thre tymes in a yere : and euery tree shulde haue
rype frute and also blossomes at one tyme thereon
growynge : also he shulde maken the shyppes for to
sayle a geynste the streme as with the streme at all
tymes ; and he wolde haue made the peny to be as
lyghtely gat as spente : land the women shulde be de-
lyueredof theyr chylderne with out inany maner felynge
anye payne at all. 1 And these thynges afore sayde pro-
mysed Virgilius tcrthe emperour for to do, and many
other dyuerse thynges that were to longe for to reherse
here, if that it fortuned hym nat to dye in the mene
wyle.

And after this made Virgilius a goodly castell that
hadde but one goynge in therto, and no man myght nat
enter in therto, but at the one gate, or els nat. And
also aboute the same castell flowed there a water and it
was unpossyble for any man there to haue anye enter-
ynge. And this castell stode without the cytie of Borne
and this enteringe of this gate was made with xxiiij
yron flayles, and on euery syde was there xij men
on eche syde, styll a pece smytynge with the flayles

TIBGULIU9. 55

neuer seasynge, the oon after the other ; and no man
myght cum in without the flayles stode styll but he
was slayne. And these flayles was made with such
a gyn that Virgilius stopped them when he lyst to enter
in therat, but no man els colde fynde the way. And in
this castell put Virgilius parte of his treasure ther in
pryuyly ; and when this was done he imagyned in his
mynde by what meane he myght make his selfe yonge
ageyn, bycause he thought to lyve longer many yeres, to
do manye wonders and merueylouse thynges. And vpon
a tyme went Virgilius to the emperoure, and asked hym,
pf lycence by the space of iij wekes. But the emperoure
in no wyse wolde graunte unto hym, for he wolde haue
Virgilius at all tymes by hym. Than harde he that Virgi-
lius went to his house and toke with hym one of his men
that he aboue all men trusted, and knewe well that he
wolde best kepe his counsayll ; and they departed to his
castell that was without the towne, and when they were
afore the castell there sawe the man men stande with
yron flayles in theyr handes sore smytynge. Than sayd
Virgiliustohisman : " Enter youfyrste into the castell ;"
than answered the man and sayd " If I shulde enter the
flayles wolde slee me." Than shewed Virgilius to the
man of eche syde the enterynge in and all the vyces
that therto belonged ; and when he had shewed hym all
the wayes, he made sease the flayles and went into the
castell : and when they were bothe in, Virgilius turned
the vyces ageyne, and so went the yron flayles as they
dyd a fore. Then sayde Virgilius, " My dere beloued

56 VIEGILTUS.

frende, and he that I above all men truste, and knowe
moost of my secret :" and than led he the man into the
seller where he had made a foyer lampe at all seasons
burnynge. And than sayd Virgilius to the man : " Se
you the barell that standeth here ?" and he sayde, " ye
there muste put me : fyrste ye muste slee me, and he we
smalle to peces, and cut my head in iiij peces, and salte
the heed under in the bottum, and then the peces there
after, and my herte in the myddel, and then set the
barell under the lampe, that nyght and daye therin may
droppe and leke : and ye shall ix dayes longe, ones in
the daye fyll the lampe, and fayle nat. And when this
is all done, than shall I be renued and made yonge
ageyn and lyue longe tyme and maney wynters mo, if
that it fortune me nat to be taken of a boue and dye."
And when the man harde his master Virgilius spekethus,
he was sore abasshed, and sayd : " That wyll I neuer
whyle I lyue, for in no maner wyll I slee you." And
than sayd Virgilius : "Ye at this tyme must do it, for it
shall be no grefe unto you." And at the last Virgilius
treated his man so muche, that he consented to hym :
and then toke the seruant Virgilius, and slewe hym,
and when he was thus slayn, he he we hym in peces and
salted hym in the barell, and cut his heed in iiij. peces
as his master bad hym, and than put the herte in the
myddell and salted them wele : and when all this was
done, he hynge the lampe ryght ouer the barell, that it
myght at all times droppe in therto. And when he had
done all this, he went out of the castell and turned the

VIBGILIUS. 57

t

vyces, and then wente the coper men smyghtynge with
theyr flayles so strongly upon the yron anueldes as they
dyd afore, that there durste no man enter : and he came
euery daye to the castell and fylled the lampe, as Virgi-
lius had had hym:

And as the emperour myssed Yirgilius by the space
of seuen dayes, he merueyled greatly where he shulde
be by come; but Virgilius was kylled and layed in the
seller by his seruaunte that he loued so well. And than
the emperour thought in his mynde to aske Virgilius
seruaunt, where Virgilius his master was : and so he
dyd, for he knewe well that Virgilius loued hym above
all men in the worlde. Than answered the seruaunte
to the emperoure, and sayde, " Worschypfull lorde, and
it please your grace I wot nat where he is, for it is seuen
dayes past that I sawe hym laste ; and than wente he
forthe I cannot tell whyther, for he wulde nat let me
goo with hym." Than was the emperoure angery with
that answere, and sayd : " Thou lyest falce thefe that
thou art ; but without thou showe me shortly where he
is, I shall put the to dethe." With those wordes was
the man abashed, and sayde: "Worshypfull lorde, seuen
dayes a goo I went with hym without the towne to the
castell, and there he went in, and there I lefte hym, for
he wold nat let me in with hym." Than sayd the empe-
rour, " goo with me to the same castell," and so he
dyd ; and whan they cam a fore the castell and wolde
haue entered, they myght nat, bycause flayles smyt so
faste. Than sayde the emperoure : " Make pease this

58 VLRGILIirS.

flayles, that we may cum in." Than answered the man:
"I knowe nat the way :" than sayd the emperour, "Than
shalt thou dye ;" and than thorowgh the fere of dethe
he turned the vyce and made the flayles stande styl,
and then the emperoure entered into the castell with all
his folke, and soughte al a boute in euery corner after
Virgilius ; and at the laste they sowght so longe that
they cam into the seller where they sawe the lampe
hang ouer the barell, where Virgilius lay in deed. Than
asked the emperoure the man: " Who had made hym so
herdey to put his mayster Virgilius so to dethe ?" and
the man answered no worde to the emperoure. And
than the emperour, with great anger, drewe out his
swerde, and slewe he there Virgilius man. And when
all this was done, than sawe the emperoure and all his
folke a naked chylde, iij. tymes rennynge a boute the
barell, saynge the wordes : " cursed be the tyme that
ye cam euer here :" and with those wordes vanyshed the
chylde away, and was neuer sene a geyne : and thus
abyd Virgilius in the barell, deed. Then was the empe-
rour very heuy for the dethe of Virgilius, and also all Vir-
gilius kynred, and also all the senders that dwelled aboute
the towne of Napels,andinespecyallthetowneof Napels,
for by cause that Virgilius was the founder therof, and
made it of great worshypp. Than thought the empe-
roure to haue the good and ryches of Virgilius, but
there were none so harday that durste cum in to fetche
it, for fere of the coper men, that smote so faste with
theyr yron flayles : and so abyd Virgilius treasure in

VIBGULIUS. 59

the seller. And Virgilius dyd many other merueylouse
thynges that in this boke is not wryten. And thus
(G-od) gyue us grace that we may be in the boke of
euer lastynge blysse. Amen.

Thus endethe the lyfe of Virgilius

with many dyuers consaytes that

he dyd. Emprynted in the cy-

tie of Anwarpe By me

Johnn Doesborcke

dwellynge at

the earner

porte.

APPENDIX.

DE CARNB IMFUTRESCIBILI MACELLI.

Jam nunc ad civitatem Campanise Neapolin redeamus, in qua
macellum est, in cujus pariete insertum perhibetur a Virgilio
frustrum carnis tantce efficacise, quod, dum illic erit inclusum in
ipsius macelli continentia, nulla caro quanto tempore vetusta
nares olefacientis aut intuentis adspectum aut comedentis sapo-
rein ofFendet. Est in eadem civitate porta Dominica Nolam,
Campaniae civitatem olim inclytam, respiciens, in cujus ingressu
est via lapidibus artificiose constructa. Sub hujus viae sigillo con-
clusit Virgilius omne genus reptilis nocui, unde proven it, quod,
cum ci vitas ilia, infcmbitu plurimum spatiosa, tota columnis sub-
terrenis innitatur, nusquam in cavernis aut rimis interioribus,
aut hortis infra urbis moenia conclusis vermis nocivus reperi-
tur. Tertium est quod illic expertus sum, tunc quidem ipsius
ignarus ; sed fortuito casu reapse mihi dante scientiam etproba-
tionem, coactus sum esse sciens ejus, quod si non preventus
essem periculo, vix aliena relatione fieri posse assererem. Nem-
pe anno, quo fait Aeon obsessa, circa eminens S. Johannis Bap-
tist® festum cum essem Salerni, de subito supervenit mihi
hospes jucundus, cujus sincera dilectio cum diutina in scholis
et curia domini mei Regis vetustioris Anglise, Henrici avi
vestri, serenissime Princeps, commansione firmata, non jam
alterum a me, sed in ipso me alterum mihi obvenisse faciebat.
Exultavit cor meum propter singularitatem affection is, et prop-

APPENDIX. 61

ter rumores, quos recensiare mihi tam fidelis nuncius poterat,
de nostrorum prosperitate propinquorum, quorum omnium hie
non tam sanguine quam amore fuit propinquissimus. Properan-
tem ad transitum et transfretationem, diu reluctantem vici precum
instantia. Philippus hie erat, Alius patricii olim illustris, Co-
lpitis Sarisberiensis, cujus neptis ex fratre comitatum Saris-
beriensem jure matrimonii transfundit in istum avunculum ves-
trum, Domine Imperator. Inter volentem et invitum meliore
consilio trahitur amicus ad civitatem Nolanam, ubi tunc ex
mandato Domini niei, illustris regis Siculi Gulielmi mansio, mihi
erat ob declinandos Panormitanos tumultus ae fervores aestivos.
Quid plura ? Post aliquod dies deliberavimus ad Neapolitanum
mare accedere,si quo fortassis even tu paratior ac minus sumtuosa
nobis illic occurreret transfretatio. Civitatem advenimus, in
hospitio venerabilis auditoris mei in jure canonico apud Bono-
niam, Johannis Pinatelli, Neapolitani Archidiaconi, scientia,
moribus et sanguine illustris, nos recipientes ; a quo jucunde
suscepti, causam adventus nostri pandimus, ipseque, comperta
voti nostri instantia, dum parantur epulae, mare nobiscum ac-
cedit. Facto vix unius horse spatio, succincta brevitate verbo-
rum navis conducitur pretio optato, et ad instantiam viatorum
dies data ad navigandum accelerat. Ad hospitium redeun-
tibus sermo est, quo successu quibusve auspiciis omnia nobis
desiderata tam celeri manu occurrerint ? ignorantibus et stu-
pendous nobis de tanta felicitate successuum : •• Heus '* inquit
Archidiaconus, " per quam civitatis portam intrastis ?" cumque,
qusB fuerit porta, explicarem ; ille perspicax intellector adje-
cit : " Merito tam brevi manu vobis fortuna subvenit. Sed oro,
mihi veredica relatione dicatis, qua parte aditus ingressi estis,
dextra vel sinistra ?** Respondemus. <( Cum ad ipsam veniremus
portam, et paratior nobis ad sinistram pateret ingressus, occur-

62 APPENDIX.

rit ex improviso asinus lignorum strue onoratus, et ex occursu
compulsi sumus ad dextram declinare." Tunc Archidiaconus :
" Ut sciatis, quanta miranda Virgilius in hacurbefuerit operatus,
accedamus ad locum, et ostendam, quod in ilia porta memo-
rial reliquerit Virgilius super terrain." Accedentibus nobis
ostendit in dextra parte caput parieti portali insertum de mar*
more pario, cujus rictus ad risum et eximiee jucunditatis hilari-
atem trahebantur. In sinistra vero parte parietis erat aliud,
caput de consimili marmore infixum, sed alteri valde dissimile
occulis siquidem torvis flentis vultum ac irati, casusque infeli-
cis jacturam deplorantis prsetendebat. Ex his tarn adversis
vultuum imaginatiombus duo sibi contraria fortunes fatapropo-
nit Archidiaconus omnibus ingredientibus imminere, dummodo
nulla fiat deelinatio ad dextram sive ad sinistram, et ex indus-
tria proeurata; sed sieut fatalia sunt, fato eventuique commit-
tantur. "Quisquis," inquit, «* ad dextram civitatem istam ingre-
ditur, semper dextro cornu ad omnem propositi sui effectum pros-
peratur, semper «reseit et augetur : quicunque ad sinistram
flectitur, semper 4ecktit^ et ab omni desiderio suo fraudatur.
Quia ergo ex asini objectione ad dextram deflexistis, conside-
rate, quam celeriter et quanta prosperitate iter vestrum perfe-
cistis."

Gervam Tilberensis Otia Imperiaka. Tertia Decisio.
C. 12, as quoted by Liebreeht in the volume to which we have
already (ante p. 5) referred.

ROBIN HOOD.

ROBIN HOOD.

The name of Eobin Hood has long been so closely
interwoven with the history of English romance, that
a collection of our ancient fictions, which should not
include some popular account of this renowned out-
law, and of the valorous exploits which were performed
by him and his no less celebrated companions, would
possess little claim to be considered either judicious or
complete. It will not therefore be matter of surprise
that this version of our hero's adventures, which is
stated in the title to be "newly collected into one volume
by an Ingenious Antiquary," but the several stories
of which, though popular in their day, are nothing more
than transpositions into prose of so many ballads from
the common Garland, should be included in the pre-
sent series, as from its being the only prose History
of Eobin Hood, the editor was afforded no opportunity
of selection; while the subject-matter of it demanded a
place so imperiously as to outweigh any consideration,
of the imperfect form under which it presented itself.
As some compensation, however, for the inferiority

TOL. II. F

66 PEEFACE.

of the present tale to the merits of its hero, the editor
has printed, for the first time, (vide Appendix) the curi-
ous history of him preserved among the manuscripts
in the Sloane Library, at the British Museum. This
life, written, as Eitson supposes, towards the latter end
of the sixteenth century, labours in some measure un-
der the same objection with the tale to which it is an-
nexed, the greater part of it, being merely a reduction
into prose of that very antient legend, u 9 Sgtle &t$tt
oi l&objm feotte," but as that industrious antiquary,
whose labours on the subject of "Robin Hood, his
outlaws, and his trade," left little to be done by his
followers, deemed it worthy of frequent quotation in
his very curious illustrations of our hero's life, the pre-
sent editor is of opinion that, in its original and perfect
state, it cannot fail of being highly acceptable to all
those, to whom the recollections and associations of
childhood have endeared the name and memory of
Eobin Hood.

. It now remains to point out the particular sources
from which the several incidents of the following nar-
rative have been derived, and then to instance some of
the earliest and most important historical allusions to
the existence of our hero and his companions, which
are to be found scattered through the various pages
of historians, poets, and playwrights.

PEEPACE. 67

Robin Hood's Delight is derived from the ballad of
that name, which may be seen in Ritson's Collection,
Vol. ii. p. 116, who has printed it from an old black
letter copy, in the collection of Anthony "Wood ; the
fall title of which is

BOBItf HOOD'S DELIGHT,

Or, a merry combat fought between Robin Hood,
Little John, and Will Scarelock and three stout
Keepers in Sherwood Forrest :

Robin was valiant and stout,

So was Scarelock and John in the field,

But these Keepers stout did give them rout,

And made them all for to yield ;

But after the battle ended was,

Bold Robin did make them amends,

For claret and sack they did not lack,

So drank themselves good friends.

To the tune of Robin Hood and Queen Katherine :
or, Robin Hood and the Shepherd.

Mobin Hood? 8 Progress to Nottingham is likewise
derived from a ballad with that title, to which are
added the following doggerel lines :

Where he met with fifteen forresters all on a row,
And he desired of them some news for to know,
But with cross graind words they did him thwart,
For which at last he made them smart.

Vide Bitson, Vol. n. p. 12,

68 PREFACE.

Robin Hood and the Tanner is from the ballad print-
ed by Bitson, Vol. n. p. 30, from an old black letter
copy in the collection of Anthony a Wood, which is en-
titled, —

fcOBIN HOOD A1TD THE TAOTTEB ;

Or, Robin Hood met with his match.

A merry and pleasant song, relating the gallant and
fierce combate fought between Arthur Bland, a Tanner
of Nottingham and Robin Hood, the greatest and most
noblest archer of England. Prom an old black letter
copy, in the collection of Anthony a "Wood.

Bobin Blood and the Butcher is from the Ballad of
the same name, which Bitson has printed from an old
black letter copy, also in the collection of Anthony a
Wood. Vide Vol. n. p. 24.

Bobin Mood and the Beggar is likewise from the bal-
lad so caHed, preserved in Bitson, Vol. n. p. 122, who
transcribed it from an old black letter copy which was
in Anthony a Wood's collection.

Bobin Hood and the Stranger boasts the same origin,
but the conclusion is taken from a fragment of a dif-
ferent ballad, which was formerly appended to it, in
lieu of the genuine second part, which may be seen in
Bitson, Vol. ii. p. 71.

PREFACE. 69

Robin Hood and the Bishop is from a similar source :
Vide Bitson, Vol. n. p. 19, as is also the next, of which
original the full title is Renowned Robin Hood : or, his
famous archery truly related in the worthy exploits he
acted before Queen Katherine, he being an outlaw
man ; and how he obtained his. own and his fellows
pardon. " To a new Tune/' u It is scarcely worth
" observing, that there was no queen consort named
" Katherine before Henry the fifth's time ; but as
" Henry the eighth had no less than three wives so
"called, the name would be sufficiently familiar to
Ct our ballad maker." Bitson, Vol. n. p. 83.

The original of Robin Hood and the Cv/rtal Fryer
may likewise be seen in the same collection, Vol. n.
p. 58. " The Curtal Fryer," Dr. Stukeley says, " is
cordelier, from the cord or rope which they wore
round their waist, to whip themselves with." " They
were," adds he, "of the Franciscan order." Our
Fryer, however, is undoubtedly so called from his
" Curtail dogs," or curs, as we now say, (Gourtalt Fr.)
In fact, he is no Fryer at all, but a monk of Fountains
Abbey, which was of the Cistercian order.

Robin Hood and the Fisherman is a reduction of a
ballad, entitled the same as this division of the pre-
sent tale, and which is inserted. in Bitson, Vol. n. p.
111. Robin Hood*8 Chace, which concludes the list,

70 PREFACE.

is from a song so called, in Bitson, Vol. n. p. 92.
In the preamble to the ballad it states, " that when
" he had taken his leave of the queen, he returned to
" merry Sherwood," but our author having to wind
up his story, tells us that, " he dismissed all his idle
" companions, and betaking himself to a civil course
" of life, he did keep a gallant house, and had over
" all the country, the love of the rich, and the prayers
" of the poor.'* This practice it is to be observed,
he has adopted on various occasions; introducing
such prefatory or concluding observations as he con-
sidered nece 8 sary to connect the several portions of
his narrative.

Eobin Hood is said to have been born at " Locksley
town, in merry Nottinghamshire," a village which
though not mentioned in Sipelman'sVillareAnglicanum,
or any other work of a similar description, must not
therefore be set down as having no existence but in the
imagination of the ballad maker, since numbers of
names of towns and villages are known, which can
only be traced in ancient writings. His birth is sup-
posed to have taken place about the year 1160, in the
reign of Henry the second ; and the Sloane MS. says,
" he lived tyll the latter end of Eichard the fyrst ;"
which is corroborated by Major, who says, " Circa baec
tempora [«. Bicardi 1.] ut auguror, Bobertus Hudus

PBEFACE. 71

et Parvus Joannes latrones famosissimi'^in nemoribus
latuerunt, solum opulentum virorum bona diripientes.
Nullum nisi eos invadentem vel resistentem pro sua-
rum rerum tuitione occiderunt. Centum sagittarios ad
pugnam aptissimos Eobertus latrociniis aluit quos 400
viri fortissimi invadere non audebant. IToeminam nul-
lam opprimi permisit, nee pauperum bona surripuit,
verum eos ex abbatum bonis ablatis opipare pavit.
Viri rapinam improbo, sed latronum omnium humanis-
simus et princeps erat." (Majoris Britannia Historia.
fclin. 1740. p. 128.) Stowe in his Annates, 1592, p.
227, gives an almost literal version of the above pas-
sage ; Bichard Eobinson versifies it, and a MS. note in
the British Museum, (Bib. Har. 1233), not in Mr.
Wanley's opinion to be relied on, places him in the
same period. Eordun and Hector Boece agree in
bringing him down to the time of Henry the third,
which is not far distant, and Charlton in his History
of Whitby, 4to. 1779, speaks of him as living in the
days of "Abbot Bichard and Peter his successor/'
that is between the years 1176 and 1211. But the
opinion of Sir Edward Coke ought, perhaps, to be con-
sidered decisive, who says, " This Bobin Hood lived in
the reign of King Bichard the first." (3 Institute
197).

It would appear from popular belief and much cor-

72 PBEFACE.

roborative evidence, that ho was of noble extraction,
and at the latter part of his life, at least, he bore the
title of Earl of Huntingdon. The sense of the Sloane
MS. evidently requires that the epithet to be adjoined
to the word parentage should be " noble." So like-
wise the Harleian note, c< It is said that he was of
noble blood," and Leland expressly calls him " nobilis."
The following account of his family, if proved, would
justify this designation : Ralph Fitzothes, or Fitzooth, a

Norman, who had come over to England with "William

•

Rufus, married Maud or Matilda, daughter of Gilbert
de Gaunt Earl of Kyme and Lindsey, by whom he
had two sons : Philip afterwards Earl of Kyme, that
earldom being part of his mother's dowry, and "Wil-
liam. Philip, the elder, died without issue : "William
was a ward to Robert de Vere Earl of Oxford, in
whose household he received his education ; and who,
by the king's express commands, gave him in marriage
to his own niece, the youngest of the three daughters
of the celebrated Lady Roisia de Vere, daughter of
Aubrey de Vere, Earl of Guisnes, in Normandy, and
Lord high chamberlain of England under Henry the
first, and of Adeliza, daughter to Richard de Clare,
Earl of Clarence and Hertford, by Payn de Beau-
champ, Baron of Bedford, her second husband. The
offspring of this marriage was, our hero, Robert

PBEFACE. 73

Pitzootb, commonly called Robin Hood. (See
Stukeley's Faheographia Britannica, No. 1. passim).
The pedigree of Eobin Hood, Earl of Huntingdon,
may be seen in No. 2, of the same work.

Several explanations have been attempted of the
manner in which the name of Robert Fitzooth was
altered or corrupted into that of Robin Hood. It
has been pretended that Hood is only a corruption of
" o'th'wood," q. d. of Sherwood. •« This," says the
late editor of the poems of which he was the subject,
"is an absurd conceit; but if the name were a
matter of conjecture, it might be probably enough
referred to some particular sort of hood our hero
wore by way of distinction or disguise." See Scot's
Discoverie of Witchcraft, 1584. p. 522. But an in-
genious writer in the Quarterly Review for January,
1820, speaking of Puck says, " Puck is also found
under the character of Robin G-oodfellow or Robin
Hood; the outlaw acquired his bye name from his
resemblance to the unquiet wandering spirit. The
Robin Hood of England is also the Scottish Red
Cap, and the Saxon spirit Hudken or Hodeken, so
called from the hoodiken, or little hat which he wore,
and which also covers his head when he appeared in
the shape of the Nisse of Sweden." This opinion
may, perhaps, be carried still farther, and from the

74 PRFPACE.

likeness between the two, we may suppose the wily
fiend to owe his appellation of Eobin Goodfellow, to
the fondness with which the merry outlaw wag every
where regarded.

His wild and extravagant disposition, which con-
sumed his inheritance and caused him to be outlawed
for debt, is alleged as the reason which induced him to
betake himself to the woods, and to the life which he
there led. This account, which varies from that given
in the Appendix, is confirmed by the Harleian note,
which mentions his " having wasted his estate in
ryotous courses ;" but differs from that given by Dr.
Stukeley, in a MS. note in his copy of the Garland,
who says, " Eobin Hood took to this wild way of life,
in imitation of his grandfather Geoffrey Mandeville,
who being a favourer of Maud Empress, K. Stephen
took him prisoner at S. Albans, and made him give up
the tower of London, Walden, Plessis, &c. upon
which he lived on plmder"

Barnsdale in Yorkshire, Sherwood in Notting-
hamshire, and Plompton Park in Cumberland, were
the haunts which he mostly frequented, and where he
was speedily joined by a number of persons, who it is
to be supposed were induced so to do, more from the
similarity of their conditions, than from friendship
towards our hero, who from his former rank or his

PEEFACE. 75

superior personal acquirements, appears to have become
their acknowledged leader, and to have been assisted
in his government by various members of the general
body. Of these his especial favourite was Little
John (whose surname is said to have been BTailor).
"William Scarlock (Scathelock or Scarlet), George a
Green, pinder (or poundkeeper) of Wakefield, Muck,
the Miller's Son, and a certain monk or frier named
Tuck, were the other prominent members of this
league. Little John was, incontestably, the next in
importance, and the names of " Eobertus Hode and
litell Johanne," are mentioned together by Eordun,
as early as 1341. Of George a Green mention has
been made in another place, and of Frier Tuck it may
be observed, that he is frequently noticed by old
writers, among others by Shakspeare who speaks of
•' Robin Hood's fat frier," and if, as has been sup-
posed, he is The Curtal Frier of Fountains-dale , he
must necessarily have been one of the monks of that
abbey, which was of the Cistercian order: he was
also as one of the companions of Robin Hood, an
essential character in the morris-dance.

Every hero, whether of history or fable, must have
some "ladye of his love" to inspire him with courage
in the hour of danger, and be at all times the god-
dess of his idolatry; accordingly tradition has as-
serted, that Robin Hood was accompanied in his

70 PBEPACE.

retreat by a female of whom he was enamoured, and
whose real or adopted name was Marian. Who or
whatever this lady was, it is observable that no
mention of her occurs either in the Lytell geste of
Eobyn Hode, or in any other poem or song con-
cerning him, except a comparatively modern one of
no merit, which has never been inserted in any of the
publications entitled "Eobin Hood's Garland," but
which is given in'Bitson, Vol. n. p. 157, from an old
black letter copy, in the collection of Anthony a "Wood.
She is, however, an important character in the two
old plays of The Death and Downfall of Eobert Earl
of Huntingdon, written before 1600, and is also one
of the persons who figure in the ancient morris dance.

It is now time that these observations should be
brought to a close, as the reader who may not yet
be satiated with these desultory particulars may find
a perfect storehouse of them, in the pages from
whence the majority of these illustrations have been
derived, namely Ritson's Introduction to his Collection
of Ballads, Sfc. relative to Rohin Hood. One or two
more extracts shall close this preface, which will be,
perhaps, too short for those who are much interested
in the subject of our hero's life, and too long for those
who consider him beneath their notice.

" Having for a long series of years," says Eitson,
" maintained a sort of independent sovereignty, and

PREFACE. 77

set kings, judges, and magistrates at defiance, a pro-
clamation was published offering a considerable reward
for bringing him in alive or dead; which, however,
seems to have been productive of no greater success
than former attempts for that purpose. At length
the infirmities of old age increasing upon him, and
desirous to be relieved in a fit of sickness by being let
blood, he applied for that purpose to the prioress of
Kirkley's-nunnery, in Yorkshire, his relation, (women,
and particularly religious women, being in those times
somewhat better skilled in surgery than the sex is
at present) by whom he was treacherously bled to
death. This event happened on the 18 Nov. 1247,
being the 31st year of King Henry III. (and if the
date assigned to his birth be correct) about the 87th
of his age. He was interred under some trees, at a
short distance from the house ; a stone being placed
over his grave, with an inscription to his memory.

The following epitaph was found amongst the papers
of the late learned Dr. Gale, Dean of York.

fe*ar unttermatt ttil lattl atean
lai$ robtrt taxi of fjtmtmgttm
near arctt ber a$ i)te tfa gnffl
antt ptpl feaultt tm robtn f)ctrtJ
&i& utlafo$ a$ f)t an i\ mm
btl tnglantt mbr it agm

oWtt 24 (r. 14.) fcal tttfeembrfe 1247.

78 PREFACE.

Ritson though he did not pretend to say, that the
language of this epitaph was that of Henry the third's
time, nor indeed to determine of what age it was,
perceived nothing in it from whence one should be
led to pronounce it spurious, i.e. that it was never
inscribed on the grave stone of Robin. That there
actually was some inscription upon it in Mr. Thoresby's
time, though then scarce legible is evident from his
own words : " Near unto Kirklees the noted Robin
Hood lies buried under a grave stone that yet remains
near the park, but the inscription scarce legible."
Due. Leod. p. 91 ; and it should be remembered, as
well that the last century was not the age of imposi-
tion, as that Dr. Gale was both too good and too
. learned a man either to be capable of it himself, or to
be liable to it from others.

Ritson, who may, perhaps, be considered as preju-
diced in his favour, gives the following summary of
his character and renown, and produces, in con-
firmation of his opinion, a body of notes replete with
erudition and research. " "With respect to his per-
sonal character : it is sufficiently evident that he was
active, brave, prudent, patient ; possessed of uncom-
mon bodily strength, and considerable military skill :
just, generous, benevolent, faithful, and beloved or
revered by his followers or adherents for his excellent
and amiable qualities. Eordun, a priest, extols his

PBEPACB. 79

piety, and piety by a priest is regarded as the per-
fection of virtue ; Major pronounces him most humane
and the prince of all robbers; and Camden, whose
testimony is of some weight, calls him ' prsedonem
mitissimum,' the gentlest of thieves. As proofs of
his universal and singular popularity his story and
exploits have been made the subject as well of various
dramatic exhibitions! as of innumerable poems, rimes,
songs and ballads : he has given rise to divers pro-
verbs, and to swear by him or some of his companions
appears to have been a usual practice : his songs have
been preferred, on the most solemn occasions, not
only to the psalms of David, but to the New Testa-
ment ; his service to the word of God ; he may be
regarded as the patron of archery : and though not
actually canonized (a situation to which the miracles
wrought in his favour, as well in his lifetime as after
his death, and the supernatural powers he is, in some
parts, supposed to have possessed give him an indis-
putable claim) he obtained the principal distinction of
sainthood, in having a festival allotted to him, and
solemn games instituted in honour of his memory,
which were celebrated till the latter end of the six-
teenth century; not by the populace only, but by
kings or princes and grave magistrates ; and that as
well in Scotland as in England ; being considered in

80 PREFACE.

the former country, of the highest political importance
and essential to the civil and religious liberties of the
people, the efforts of government to suppress them
frequently producing tumult and insurrection: his
bow and one of his arrows, his chain, his cap and one
of his slippers, were preserved with peculiar venera-
tion, till within the present century; and not only
places which afforded him security or amusement, but
even the well at which he quenched his thirst, still
retain his name : a name which in the middle of the
present century, was conferred as an honourable
distinction upon the prime minister to the king of
Madagascar."

" After his death, his company was dispersed. His-
tory is silent in particulars : all that we can therefore
learn, is, that the honour of Little John's death and
burial is contended for by rival nations; that his
grave continued long ' celebrous for the yielding of
excellent whetstones;' and that some of his descend-
ants of the name of Nailor, which he himself bore, and
they from him, were in being so late as the last cen-
tury."

That poetical antiquary, Drayton's elegant de-
scription of our hero and his mode of living will form
a pleasing conclusion to this overlong "tale of Robin
Hood."

PBEFACE. 81

" The merry pranks he play'd, would ask an age to tell,
And the adventures strange, that Robin Hoodjbefell
When Mansfield many a time, for Robin hath been laid
How he hath consen'd them, that him would have betray'd
How often he hath come, to Nottingham disguised
And cunningly escaped, being set to be surprised.
In this our spacious isle, I think there is not one
But he hath heard some talk of him and little John;
And to the end of time, the tales shall ne'er be done
Of Scarlock, George a Green, and Much the Miller's Son,
Of Tuck the merry Fryer, which many a sermon made
In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws and their trade.
An hundred valiant men, had this brave Robin Hood,
Still ready at his call, that bowmen were right good,
All clad in Lincoln green, with caps of red and blue,
His fellow's winded horn not one of them but knew,
When setting to their lips, their little beugles shrill
The warbling ecchos wak'd from every dale and hill.
Their bauldricks set with studs athwart their shoulders cast,
To which under their arms their sheafs were buckled fast,
A short sword at their belt, a buckler scare a span
Who struck below the knee, not counted them a man:
All made of Spanish yew, their bows were wondrous strong;
They not an arrow drew, but was a cloth yard long.
Of archery they had the very perfect craft,
With broad arrow, or but, or pricke, or roving shaft,
At marks full forty score, they used to prick, and rove,
Yet higher than the breast for compass never strove ;
Yet at the farthest mark a foot could hardly win ;
At long outs, short, and hoyles, each one could cleave the pin:
Their arrows finely pair'd for timber, and for feather,
With birch and brazil pierc'd to fly in any weather;
And shot they with the round, the square, or forked pile,
The loose gave such a twang, as might be heard a mile.
VOL. II. a

82 PREFACE.

And of these archers brave, there was not any one,
But he could kill a deer, his swiftest speed upon,
Which they did broil and roast, in many a mighty wood,
Sharp hunger the fine sauce, to their more kingly food.
Then taking them to rest, his merry men and he
Slept many a summers night under the greenwood tree.
From wealthy abbots chests, and churls abundant store,
What oftentimes he took, he shared among the poor :
No lordly Bishop came, in lusty Robin's way
To him before he went, but for his pass must pay:
The widow in distress he graciously reliev'd,
And remedied the wrongs of many a virgin griev'd:
He from the husbands bed no married woman wan,
But to his mistress dear, his loved Marian,
Was ever constant known,«which wheresoe'er she came
Was sovereign of the woods ; chief Lady of the game;
Her clothes tuck'd to the knee and dainty braided hair
With bow and quiver arm'd, she wander'd here and there
Amongst the forests wild; Diana never knew
Such pleasures, nor such harts as Mariana slew."

Polyolbion. Song 26.

The noble Birth and gallant Achievements of
Robin Hood, &c. was first printed by W. O. (Wil-
liam Onley), 4to. bl. lett. and is supposed to be the
' small merry book' called Robin Hood, mentioned in
the list of ' books, ballads and histories,' printed for
and sold by "William Thackeray, at the Angel, in Duck
Lane, (about 1680), preserved in one of the volumes
of Old Ballads (part of Bagford's Collection) in the
British Museum.

Since the foregoing notice was written, Bobin Hood

PREFACE. 83

and his real place in History have been made the sub-
ject of investigation by several well-known antiquaries.
M. Thierry sees in him the chief of a band of Saxons,
who avoided the Norman yoke by flight to the green-
wood, where they lived in open defiance and avowed
hostility to the conquerors. Mr. Wright, in his
" JEssays on the Literature of ike Middle Ages" while
favouring M. Thierry's views, sees in his name at least
traces of his connection with the early mythology of
the Teutonic people. Mr. G-utch, in the two hand-
some volumes which he has published upon the subject,
insists upon the historic character of the hero, but
places him at a far more recent period than that as-
signed to him by Thierry.

None of these writers, however, have produced such
new and curious matter in support of their peculiar
views as has been brought forward by my learned friend
Mr. Hunter, in The Ballad Hero Robin Hood.* Mr.
Hunter has discovered among the Records under his
charge, and of which he knows how to make such ex-
cellent use, evidence as it seems to him, not only that
Robin Hood was a real personage — but who and what
he actually was. He argues with great ingenuity, and
we must add probability, that the incidents in the

* This is No. 4 of Mr, Hunter's valuable Series of Critical and
Historical Tracts.

84 PREFACE.

Lytel Oeste were founded in fact — and even shows that
it is not impossible but that the Lytel Geste itself
might have been penned by Bichard Rolle, the Hermit
of Hampole — for Hampole was but a short distance
from Barnsdale.

We cannot of course within our limits, even if it were
just to Mr. Hunter, quote the grounds on which his
opinion has been formed. But we will give his views
in his own words.

" My theory then on the whole is this. That nei-
ther is Eobin Hood a mere poetic conception, a
beautiful abstraction of the life of a jovial freebooter
living in the woods, nor one of those fanciful beings,
creatures of the popular mind springing in the very
infancy of Northern civilization, " one amongst the
personages of the early mythology of the Teutonic peo-
ple" as Mr. Wright informs us : but a person who
had a veritable existence quite within historic time, a
man of like feelings and passions as we are. Not,
however, a Saxon struggling against the Norman
power in the first and second reigns of the House of
Anjou, nor one of the Exheredati of the reign of King
Henry the Third : but one of the Contrariantes of the
reign of King Edward the Second, and living in the
early years of the reign of King Edward the Third,
but whose birth is to be carried back into the reign of

PBEPACE. 85

King Edward the First, and fixed in the decennary-
period, 1285 to 1295 : that he was born in a family
of some station and respectability seated at Wakefield
or in villages around : that he, as many others, partook
of the popular enthusiasm which supported the Earl
of Lancaster, the great baron of those parts, who,
having attempted in vain various changes in the
government, at length broke out into open rebellion
with many persons, great and small, following his
standard : that when the Earl fell, and there was a
dreadful proscription, a few persons who had been in
arms not only escaped the hazards of battle, but the
arm of the executioner : that he was one of these :
and that he protected himself against the authorities
of the time, partly by secreting himself in the depths
of the woods of Barnsdale or of the forest of Sherwood,
and partly by intimidating the public officers by the
opinion which was abroad of his unerring bow, and
his instant command of assistance from numerous
comrades as skilled in archery as himself: that he
supported himself by slaying the wild animals who
were found in the forests, and by levying a species of
black-mail on passengers along the great road which
united London with Berwick, occasionally replenishing
his coffers by seizing upon treasure as it was being
transported on the road : that there was a self-aban-

86 PBEtfACE.

donment and a courtesy in the way in which he pro-
ceeded, which distinguishes him from the ordinary
highwaymen : that he laid down the principle, that he
would take from none but those who could afford to
lose, and that if he met with poor persons he would
bestow upon them some part of what he had taken
from the rich ; in short, that in this respect he was
the supporter of the rights or supposed reasonable
expectations of the middle and lower ranks, a leveller
of the times : that he continued this course for about
twenty months, April, 1322, to December, 1323,
meeting with various adventures as such a person must
needs do, some of which are related in the ballads
respecting him: that when, in 1323, the king was
intent upon freeing his forests from such marauders,
he fell into the king's power : that this was at a time
when the bitter feeling with which the king and the
Spensers at first pursued those who had shown them-
selves such formidable adversaries had passed away,
and a more lenient policy had supervened, the king,
possibly for some secret and unknown reason, not
only pardoned him all his transgressions, but gave him
the place of one of the *' vadlets, porteurs de la cham-
bre," in the royal household, which appointment he
held for about a year, when the love for the uncon-
strained life he had led, and for the charms of the

PREFACE. 87

country returned, and he left the court, and betook
himself again to the greenwood shade : that he con-
tinued this mode of life, we know not exactly how
long, and that at last he resorted to the prioress of
Kirklees, his own *relative, for surgical assistance, and
in that priory he died and was buried.

" This appears to me to be, in all likelihood, the
outline of his life ; some parts of it, however, having a
stronger claim upon our belief than other parts. It
is drawn from a comparison of the minstrel testimony
with the testimony of records of different kinds, and
lying in distant places. That I give full, ample, and
implicit credence to every part of it, I do not care to
affirm ; but, I cannot think that there can be so many
correspondences between the ballad and the record
without something of identity ; and if we strike out
the whole of what is built upon the foundation of the
alleged relationship of the outlaw to the Prioress of
Kirklees, it will still remain the most probable theory
respecting the outlaws that they were soldiers escaped
from the battle of Boroughbridge, and the proscrip-
tion which followed."

If the reader shares our interest in this old English
Hero he will not be either weary of this Introduc-
tion, or unwilling to examine for himself the full
details of Mr. Hunter's very ingenious Essay.

k

THE NOBLE

BIETH

AND

(gallant atrftfebemmt* of that
fcemarfeafcle $utlato

ROBIN HOOD.

TOGETHER WITH A TRUE ACCOUNT OF THE MANY MERRY
AND EXTRAVAGANT EXPLOITS HE PLAY'D IN TWELVE
SEVERAL STORIES.

VIZ.

The Noble Parentage of Robin Hood.
Robin Hood's Delight.
Robin Hood and the Fifteen Forresters.
Robin Hood and the Tanner.
Robin Hood and the Butcher.
Robin Hood and the Beggar.

Robin Hood and the Stranger.
Robin Hood and the Bishop.
Robin Hood and Queen Catherine.
Robin Hood and the Curtal Fryer.
Robin Hood and the Fisherman.
Robin Hood's Chase.

Jiefolg collected into one ffiolume bg an fngemou*

anttguarg.

LONDON,

PRINTED BY A. P. AND T. H. FOR T. VERB AT THE SIGN OF
THE ANGEL WITHOUT NEWGATE.

1678.

THE

NOBLE PARENTAGE AND

THE ACHIEVEMENTS OF EOBIN HOOD.

Bobin Hood was descended of the noble family of the
Earl of Huntingdon, and being outlaid by Henry the
Eight for many extravagances and outrages he had
committed, he did draw together a company of such
bold and licentious persons as himself, who lived for
the most part on robberies committed in or neer unto
Sherwood Forest in Nottinghamshire. He had these
always ready at his command, so that if need did
require, he at the winding of his horn would have fifty
or more of them in a readiness to assist him. Hq
whom he most affected, by reason of his low stature, was
called Little John, but not inferior to any of them in
strength of body and stoutness of spirits. He would
not entertain any into his service, whom he had not first
fought withal himself, and made sufficient tryal of his
courage and dexterity how to use his weapons, which
was the reason that oftentimes he came home so hurt,

92 THE MERBT EXPLOITS

and beaten as he was ; which was nevertheless no occasion
of the dimanution of his love to the person whom he
fought with, for ever afterwards he would be the more
familiar with him, and better respect him for it. Many
petitions were preferred to the king for a pardon for
him, which the king (understanding of the many mad
pranks he and his associates played) would give no ear
unto ; but being attended with a considerable guard, did
make a progress himself to find him out, and to bring
him to condign punishment. At the last, by the means
and mediation of Queen Katherine, the king's wrath
was qualified, and his pardon sealed, and he spent his
old age in peace, at a house of his own, not far from
Nottingham, being generally beloved and respected of
all. We shall here give you an account of the several
combats that he fought and the many odd and merry
pranks he played, the one whereof by the strangeness of
it, will add more respect unto his story ; and the other
by their variety, will abundantly serve to give more de-
light unto the Reader.

ROBIN HOOD'S DELIGHTS ;

Or, a gallant combate fought between Robin Hood,
Little John, and William Scarlock, and three of the
keepers of the King's deer in the forrest of Sher-
wood in Nottinghamshire.

Oisr a Midsummers day in the morning, Robin Hood
being accompanied with Little John and Will Scarlock,
did walk forth betimes, and wished that in the way they

OF ROBIN HOOD. 93

might meet with some adventure that might be worthy
of their valour : they had not walked long by the forrest
side, but behold three of the keepers of the Kings game
appeared, with their forrest-bills in their hands, and
well appointed with faucheons and bucklers to defend
themselves. Loe here (saith Robin Hood) according to
our wish, we have met with our mates, and before we
part from them we will try what mettle they are made
off. What Robin Hood, said one of the keepers : I the
same, reply' d Robin. Then have at you, said the
keepers : here are three of us, and three of you, we
will single out ourselves one to one ; and bold Robin,
I for my part, am resolved to have a bout with thee.
Content, with all my heart, said Robin Hood, and for-
tune shall determine who shall have the best, the out-
laws or the keepers : with that they did lay down their
coats, which were all of Lincoln Green, and fell to it for
the space of two hours with their brown bills, in which
hot exercise Robin Hood, Little John and Scarlock had
the better, and giving the rangers leave to breath, de-
manded of them, how they liked them : why ! good stout
blades i' faith, saith the keeper that fought with Robin,
we commend you, but let us make tryal whether you are
as good at your sword and bucklers as you have been at
your quarter-staff. Why, do you doubt of it, said
Robin Hood ? we shall satisfie you in that immediately.
With that having laid down their staves and thrown off
their doublets, they fell to it pell mell : and dealt their
blows unmercifully sore, which were carefully always

94 THE MERET EXPLOITS

defended with their bucklers. At the last Eobin Hood
observing Little John and Will Scarlock begin to give
ground, which they never did in all their lives before,
he dissembled the danger, and calling out for a little res-
pite to breath, he said unto the keepers, G-ood boys,
i' faith, and the best that ever I dealt withal : let me
know your names, and for the time to come, I shall give
that respect unto you that belongs unto your valour.
Tush, said one of the keepers, we lose time in asking
after our names, if thou wilt have any more to do with
our hands, or with our swords, we are for thee ? I see
that you are stout men, said Robin Hood, we will fight
no more in this place, but come and go with me to Not-
tingham (I have silver and gold enough about me) and
there we will fight it out at the King's Head tavern with
good sack and claret ; and after we are weary, we will
lay down our arms, and become sworn brothers to one
another, for I love those men that will stand to it, and
scorn to turn their backs for the proudest Tarmagant of
them all. With all our hearts, jolly Eobin, said the
keepers to him : So putting up their swords, and on their
doublets, they went to Nottingham, where forthree days
space they followed the pipes of sack, and butts of
claret without intermission, and drank themselves good
friends.

OF EOBIN HOOD. 95

ROBIN HOOD'S PROGRESS TO NOTTINGHAM.

How being affronted with fifteen foresters as he was
going to a match at shooting with his long bow be-
fore the king, he killed the said fifteen foresters.

The name of Robin Hood did now begin to grow famous
up and down the country ; those who had occasion to
go from one market to another, were either afraid of

I him, and did forbear to go those ways where his haunts
were, or else they were in fee with him, and every
quarter did give him money, that with their goods and
cattle they might pass by unmolested. This he con-
ceived to be a secure and thriving way to fill his
pockets, wherefore he contracted with all the graziers
and rich farmers thereabouts, who had rather to give
him every quarter a certain sum of money, then to be
liable to those thefts and dangers both by day and night,
which before did too much afflict them. Robin Hood in
the mean time living high, and being out of any fear of
hue and crys,or constables warrants, would repair often-
times to the town of Nottingham, where he would con-
stantly make himself full merry at the Kings Head, and
no guest was more respected than himself. It so fell
out, that the king lying at that time at a great earls
house not far from Nottingham, the townsmen, and
some other of the adjacent countrey, did intend to delight
his majesty with the honest exercise and recreation of
archery. Thither was going many of the rangers of
Sherwood Forrest, and thither was going Robin Hood

96 THE MEBRY EXPLOITS

himself, but so disguised, that it was not easie for any one
to know him. The forresters meeting of him, demanded
of him whether he was going, he told them to the
shooting match, to which purpose he had taken his bow
of ewe along with him. Thou shoot, said one of the

forresters, thou , alas young boy, thou art not able

to bend a bow of ewe, much less to draw it being bent,
thou shoot before the king. I will hold you twenty
mark, said Robin Hood, that I will shoot a good buck
one hundred rod off and kill him dead in the place. A
hundred mark on that (said the forresters.) Down with
your dust, said Robin, and having told down the money,
with which he did go always provided, he bended his
bow, and having drawn a broad arrow up to the head of
it, he did let it fly e at a fat buck one hundred rod off and
more ; the arrow entring in between the ribs of the
buck, made him give a jump from the ground, and fell
down dead on the place, which Robin espying, the
wager (said he,) is mine, if it were for a thousand pound.
It is none of thine, said the forresters, and began to
threaten him with violence, if he did not let the money
alone, and get him suddenly gone. Robin Hood smil-
ing with indignation, I will go, (saith he,) but you shall
stay till you are carried off the place on which you stand
every mother's son of you. With that he did let flye at
one of the forresters, and then at another, and at another,
and left not shooting his well-levelled arrows, until that
fourteen of the fifteen forresters lay dead on the plain,
close unto the buck : the fifteenth was making away

OF EOBIN HOOD. 97

with all the speed he could, but Robin sent a forked ar-
row after him, which entring quite through his back
and body, came out of his breast. Now to your costs,
said Eobin Hood, you have found me to be an archer ;
and taking up the money with him, he withdrew into
the forrest to avoid all farther danger that might ensue,
and the spilling of more blood. In the mean time the
townsmen of Nottingham hearing that Robin Hood was
abroad, and that many of the forresters were slain, did
go forth in great numbers, hoping that Robin Hood was
either slain, or so hurt, that they might now take him,
and bring him to the king, but he having sent some of
his stinging arrows amongst them, they found to their
costs by bleeding experience, that he was safe enough
from being hurt or endangered : Wherefore having
taken up the fifteen forresters that he had slain, they
brought them into Nottingham town, where so many
graves being digged in the church-yard, they were all
buried by one another, and in death, as well as life,
kept company together.

ROBIN HOOD AND THE TANNER;

OR,
ROBIN HOOD MET WITH HIS MATCH.

Relating the great and fierce combat between Arthur
Bland a Tanner of Nottingham, and Robin Hood the
great Archer 'of England.

After this so sad an execution of so many of the for-
resters, there was not any one so hardy as to question
bold Robin concerning any feats of archery, and to

VOL. II. h

98 THE MEBRY EXPLOITS

speak the truth, he did of himself forbear for the space
of many years to come unto the merry town of Notting-
ham, in regard that his slaughter of so many forresters
at once had made him terrible and odious to the inha-
bitants thereabouts, but especially to the said forresters
wives, who did curse him most extreamly. In process
of time, as he was walking one summers morning in the
forest of Sherwood, he observed a man strong of body
and stern of aspect to come up unto him to give him an
affront ; whereupon he commanded him to stand, and
told him he believed he was some bold fellow that came
to steal the kings dear, and he being one of the keepers,
he must discharge his trust and secure his person. The
other, who was a tanner in the town of Nottingham,
having along B taff on his Moulder, and knowing as well
how to use it, as any he whatsoever, told him plainly
that they must be more than two or three that must
make him stand, and that he cared not a straw for his
sword, or for his bow, or for his quiver of forked headed
arrows, for he believed if he were well put to it, he

could as soon as shoot. Eobin Hood being nothing

discouraged, desired him to speak cleanly, and give him
better terms, or else he would thrash him into better
manners. Thrash me (said Bland,) marry gap with a
winion ! art thou such a goodly man, I care not a fig
for thee. Why then thou shalt care for me, said Robin
Hood, and unbuckling his belt, and laying down his
bow and his arrows, he took up a staff of ground-ash,
and would have Bland to measure the length of his staff
with his, because he would have no foul play in the

or BOBIW HOOD. 99

tryal of his manhood. But Bland replyed, I pass not
for length, my staff is of good oak, and eight foot and
a half in length, although shorter than thine, thou shalt
find it long enough to reach thy coxcomb. At these
words Eobin Hood could no longer refrain, but making
two or three fine flourishes over his head, he gave him
such a remembrance on the top of his crown, that the
blood trickled down upon his shoulders. But Arthur
Bland did soon recover himself, and bidding Robin
Hood look to himself, for he would be even with him,
he came up with hand and foot : Robin Hood believing
that he would be upon him with the fore-end of his staff,
Bland suddenly drew back, and being very nimble at it,
he gave Robin Hood so rude a visitation on the right
side of his head with the other end of his staffe, that he
not only stun'd him, but withal did break his head so
pittifully, that the blood ran down amain. Robin Hood
being not often used to behold such a sight, did lay at
Bland with all the strength and art he had ; and Bland
was no w.ays wanting to defend himself, and to return
blow for blow. Two hours together- they were in this
hot exercise, and about, and about they traversed their
ground, till the wood and their sides rang with the
blows winch they did give to one another. At the last
Robin Hood desired him to hold his hand, and let the
quarrel fall, for he found (he said) nothing was to be
gotten on either side but dry blows : he moreover as-
sured him, that for the time to come he should be free
of the forrest. God a mercy for nothing, (said Arthur

100 THE MEBBY EXPLOITS

Bland), I have not bought that freedom of thee, I may-
thank my good staff for it, and the hand that governed
it. Hereupon Robin Hood demanded of him, of what
trade he was, and where he dwelt ? to whom Bland made
answer, I am a tanner, and have wrought long in Not-
tingham, and if thou ever comest thither, I do swear
unto thee that I will tan thy hide for nought. Wilt thou
so, said Eobin, and I will do as much for thee : but if
thou wilt forsake the tanners trade, and live here in the
forrest with me, I dare assure thee thou shalt have store
of gold and silver and want for nothing. Arthur Bland
conceiving who it was, did say unto him ; If thou art
Bobin Hood, as by thy manhood I believe thou art, here
is my hand, that if thou wilt never part with me, I will
never part with thee : but where is Little John ? I
would fain see him, for he is near of kin to me by my
mother's side. Eobin Hood no sooner heard him say
so, but he blew his horn, and presently afterwards they
might discover Little John coming down the hill, who
observing his master to stand with his staff in his hand,
asked him, What-the matter was ? he told him that he
had met with the tanner of Nottingham, who had tanned
his hide to some tune : Marry, and that is well done,
said Little John, I will see if he can tan my hide also :
Friend, look to yourself, have at you. Thereupon
Bobin Hood cryed out, Hold thy hand, hold thy- hand,
he is thy friend and kinsman, his name is Arthur a
Bland. My cousin Arthur, said Little John, how glad
am I to see you, my good cousin, and throwing down

OF BOBIN HOOD. Z01

his staff, he did run unto him, and did imbrace him in
the closest arms of love. After that Robin Hood took
them both by the hand, and dancing about an old oak-
tree, with a song in their mouths, and mirth in their
hearts, they expressed all the signs of undissembled af-
fection to one another.

ROBIN HOOD AND THE BUTCHER.

How Robin Hood bought of the butcher his mare, and
the meat with which he was laden, and how he cir-
cumvented the sherriff of Nottingham, and deluded
him of three hundred pound.

Not long afterwards Robin Hood walking in the forrest
as it was his daily custome, observed a butcher riding
along the way, having good store of meat on his mares
back, which he was to sell in the market. Good mor-
row good fellow, said Robin to the butcher : Good fel-
low, replied the butcher, heavens keep me from Robin
Good fellow, for if I meet with him, I may chance to
fall short of my journey, and my meat of the market. I
like thy company well, what hast thou to sell ? said
Robin Hood. Flesh, master, said the butcher, with
which I am going to Nottingham-market. What is the
price of thy flesh, said Robin Hood, and of thy mare
that bears it ? tell me, for if thou wilt use me well, I
will buy both. Four mark, said the butcher, I cannot
bate anything of it. Sit down then and tell thy money,
said Robin Hood, I will try for once if I can thrive by
being a butcher. The money being told, Robin Hood

102 THE MERBY EXPLOITS

gets up on the mare, and away he rides with the meat to
Nottingham market, where he made such good penni-
worths, that he had sold all his meat by ten of the clock
in the morn ; He sold more meat for one penny than
others could do for five. The butchers in the market,
that had their stands by him, said one to another:
Certainly this man's meat is nought and putrified, or
else he hath stolen it. From whence comes he ? saith
another, I never did see him before : That will I tell
you by and by, said a third butcher, and stepping to
Robin Hood, said unto him, brother, thou art the
freest butcher that ever came to this market, we be all
of one trade, come let us dine together. Accurst be he
that will deny a butcher so fair an invitation, said Robin
Hood, and going with him to the inn, the table was
suddenly covered and furnished, and the best man in the
company being to say grace, Robin Hood at the upper
end of the table did put off his bonnet : God bless us
all (said he) and our meat upon this place, a cup of sack
is good to nourish the blood, and so I end my grace.
Robin Hood was no sooner sat, but he called for a cup
of sack, and drank to them all, desiring them to be
merry, for if there were five pounds to pay, he would
pay it every farthing. Thou art the bravest blade, said
the butchers, that ever came to Nottingham market.
Robin Hood still called for more wine, and the cups
trouled up and down the table, insomuch that the
sheriff, who was newly alighted, and taken his chamber
in the inn, understanding of it, said, He was some pro-

OF EOBIN HOOD. 103

digal that had sold his land, and would now spend it all
at once : which coming to Robin Hood's ear, he after
dinner took the opportunity to speak unto him : And
what, said the sheriff, G-ood fellow, thou hast made a
good market to day, hast thou any more horned beasts
to sell ? Yes, that I have, said Eobin Hood to master
sheriff, I have two or three hundred, and a hundred
acres of good land to keep them on, as ever the crow
flew over, which if you will buy of me, I will make you
as good assurance of it, as ever my father made me.
The sherriff being a covetous man, and persuading him-
self that he would make him Eobin Hood's penniworths,
commanded his horse to be brought forth, and taking
some money with him for the purchase, he rode with
Eobin Hood, who led him into the forrest for a mile or
two outright. The sherriff being laden with good store
of gold, and surprized with the melancholy of the placej
did wish himself at Nottingham again : and why so ?
said Eobin Hood : I tell thee plainly said the sheriff, I
do not like thy company. No, said Eobin Hood, then
I will provide you better. G-od keep me from Eobin
Hood, for this is the haunt he useth. Eobin Hood
smiling observed a herd of three hundred gallant deer,
feeding in the forrest close by him, and demanded of
the sherriff how he liked those horned beasts, assuring
him that they were the best that he could shew him :
with that he blew his horn, whereupon Little John with
fifty more of his associates came presently in, to whom
Eobin Hood imparted that he had brought with him the

104 THE MEEEY EXPLOITS

•

sherriff of Nottingham to dine with him. He is wel-
come, said Little John, I know he hath store of gold,
and will honestly pay for his dinner. I, I, said Robin
Hood never doubt it : and taking off the sherriffs port-
mantle, he took to himself the three hundred pounds that
was in it, then leading him back through the forrest, he
desired him to remember him kindly to his wife, and so
went laughing away.

ROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR.

Showing how he fought with the beggar, and changed
cloaths with him : and how going afterwards a beg-
ging to Nottingham, he saved three brothers who
were all condemned for stealing the kings deer,

But Eobin Hood took not any long delight in the mare
which he bought of the butcher, but having now sup-
plyed himself with good store of money which he had
gotten by the sheriff of Nottingham, he bought him a
stout gelding, and riding one day on him towards Not-
tingham, it was his fortune to meet with a poor beggar.
Eobin Hood was of a frolick spirit, and no accepter of
persons, but observing the beggar to have several sorts
of bags, which were fastened to his patched coat, he did
ride up to him, and giving him the time of the day, he
demanded of him what countryman he was ? a York,
shire-man, said the beggar, and I would desire of you
to give me something : Give thee, said Eobin Hood :
why I have nothing to give thee, I am a poor ranger in
the forrest, and thou seemest to be a lusty knave, shall

or EOBIK HOOD. 105

I give thee a good bastinado over the shoulder ? Con-
tent, content, said the beggar, I durst lay my coat and
all my bags to a threaden point thou wilt repent it :
with that Eobin Hood alighted, and the beggar and he
fell to it, he with his sword and buckler, and the beggar
with his long quarter-staff, who so well defended him-
self, that let Eobin Hood do what he could, he could
not come within the beggar, to flash him to a remem-
brance of his over-boldness ; and nothing vexed him
more, then to find that the beggar's staff was as hard
and as obdurate as iron it self, but so was not Eobin
Hood's head, for the beggar with all his force did let his
staff descend with such a side blow, that Eobin Hood
for all his skill could not defend it, but the blood came
trickling down his face, which turning Eobin Hood's
courage into revenge and fury, he let flye at him with
his trusty sword, and doubled blow on blow, but per-
ceiving that the beggar did hold him so hard to it, that
one of his blows was but the fore-runner of another, and
every blow to be almost the Postillion o£Death,hecryed
out to him to hold his hand ; That will I not do, said
the beggar, unless thou wilt resign unto me thy horse,
and thy sword, and thy cloaths, with all the money thou
hast in thy pockets : The change is uneven, said Eobin
Hood, but for once I am content: So putting on the
beggars cloaths, the beggar was the gentleman, and
Eobin Hood the beggar, who entering into Nottingham-
town with his patched coat and several wallets, under-

106 THE MBEET EXPLOITS

stood that three brethren were that day to suffer at the
gallows, being condemned for killing the kings deer,
he made no more ado but went directly to the sherriffs
house, where a young gentleman seeing him to stand at
the door, demanded of him what he would have ? Eobin
Hood returned answer that he came to crave neither
meat nor drink, but the lives of those three brothers
who were condemned to dye. That cannot be, said the
young gentleman, for they are all this day to suffer ac-
cording to law, for stealing of the kings deer, and they
are already conveyed out of town, to the place of execu-
tion. I will be there with them presently, said Eobin
Hood, and coming to the gallows, he found many making
great lamentation for them : Eobin Hood did comfort
them, and assured them they should not dye, and blow-
ing his horn, behold on a sudden a hundredbrave archers
came unto him, by whose help having released the pri-
soners, and killed the hangman, and hurt many of the
sherriffs officers, they took those who were condemned
to dye for killing the king's deer along with them,
who being very thankful for the preservation of their
lives, became afterwards of the yeomandry of Eobin
Hood.

OP EOBIN HOOD. 107

ROBIN HOOD EEVIVED,

OR,
HIS GALLANT COMBAT WITH A VALIANT YOUNG GENTLEMAN,
WHO PROVED AFTERWARDS TO BE HIS KINSMAN.

Eveby day almost did answer the expectation of Robin
Hood, for every day did administer him one new adven-
ture or another : he now did wish he had continued his
butchers trade a little longer, for nro visions grew scarce,
and he had not therewith to maintain his retinue or
himself: riding therefore forth to see what good fortune
he could be master of, he met with a young gentleman
that had shot a buck ; Robin Hood was not far off when
it was done, and commended him for his archery, and
offered him a place in his service, to be one of his yeo-
men which the young gentleman disdaining, told him if
he would not be gone, he would kick him out of that
place: Robin Hood being unused to such affronts,
assured him that he had men enough to take his part if
he would but blow his horn. Sound it, and thou darest,
said the gentleman, lean draw out agood sword that shall
cut thy throat and thy horn too : these rough words
made Robin Hood so impatient, that he did bend his
bow, which the gentleman observing, said unto him, I
am as ready for that as you, but then one, if not both of
us shall be surely slain, it were far better to try it out
wfth our swords and bucklers: content, said Robin Hood,
we can no where find a more fitting place than under the
shaddow of this oak. They drew out their swords, and

108 THE MEBBY EXPLOITS

to it they went : Robin Hood gave the young gentleman
a cut on the right elbow, and a little prick on his left
shoulder, which the gentleman returned with advantage,
insomuch that both of them taking respite to breath a
little, Robin Hood demanded of him if he had never seen
nor heard of him before ; I know not who you are said
the gentleman, but my name is G-amwel, I was born in
Maxfield, and for killing of my fathers steward, I am
forced hither to seek out my uncle, known to most men
by the name of Robin Hood : why, I am the man, said
Robin Hood, and throwing down his sword and buckler
he made haste to embrace him whom before he had so
rashly wounded. Great was the love and many the re-
ciprocal indearments that were betwixt them, when in
the instant there stepped in Little John to whom Robin
Hood having communicated what had passed, he gave
his kinsman a place next to Little John, Little John
being always next to himself. Not long afterwards he
travelled into the north, where a bonny Scot ofFering
him his service, he refused to entertain him, alledging
that he was never true either to father or kinsman, much
less would he prove true to him. At that time the
battel grew hot betwixt the Scots and the English, and
Robin Hood turning to the English, fight on, said he,
my merry men all, our cause is good, we shall not be
beaten, and though I am compassed about, with my
sword I will cut my way through the midst of mj
enemies.

OP BOBItf HOOD. 109

ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP.

Shewing how he changed cloaths with an old woman to
escape from the Bishop, and afterwards how he
robbed the Bishop of all his gold, and made him
sing mass, &c.

Robin Hood being returned with renown into Notting-
hamshire, did walk forth one morning on foot, to see
how affairs stood in the world, he had not gone far, but
he beheld a bishop riding towards London, and attended
with one hundred followers. He perceived that the
bishop had notice of him, and being alone, and not
knowing how to avoid him, he did steal into an old
woman's house, and making his complaint unto her, the
old woman asked him who he was, to whom he revealed
that he was the famous out-law, commonly called by the
name of Eobin Hood : if thy name be so, said the old
woman I will do the best I can to provide for thee, for
I do well remember it is not long since I received some
courtesies from thee : the best way that I can advise thee
to conceal thyself, is to put on my cloaths, and I will put
on thine; with all my heart, said Eobin Hood : so putting
on her gray coat, he gave her his green one, with his
doublet and breeches, and his bow and those few arrows he
had. This was no sooner done, but the bishop's men, with
their swords drawn entered into the house, did take the
old woman, believing she had been Eobin Hood, and did
set her on a milk-white steed, and following himself on a

110 THE MBRBY EXPLOITS

dapple gray, being overjoyed at the great purchase he
had made. In the mean time Robin Hood being arrayed
in the old womans cloaths, with a rock and a spindle in
his hand, did address himself straight, away unto his
company, and Little John beholding him coming over
the green, cryed out, O ! who is she that yonder is
coming towards us, and looketh so like a witch, I will
shoot her dead, and being dead will nail her to the
earth with one of my broad arrows : O hold thy hand,
said Robin Hood, I am thy master, and coming nearer
he told them what had befallen at the old womans house,
and to confirm what he said, they beheld the bishop
with a gallant train riding up that way. The bishop
espying a hundred brave bowmen standing under a tree,
in the way where he was to pass, demanded of his pri-
soner who they were ? Marry, replied the old woman, I
think it is Robin Hood with his company: why who art
thou then ? said the bishop : why I am an old woman,
said his prisoner, thou proud blind bishop, and if thou
wilt not believe me, lift up my leg and see. Then woe
is me said the bishop. He had scarce bemoaned himself,
but Robin Hood called to him, and bid him stay, and
taking hold of his horse, he tied the bishop fast to the
tree, and seizing on his sumpter-horse, he took out of his
portmantle five hundred pound: which being done,
Robin Hood smiling on Little John, and all his com-
pany laughing at one another Robin Hood bid Little John
give him his horse and let him go : by no means said
the company, for he shall sing us a mass before we let

OP BOBIN HOOD. Ill

him loose : which being done to the bishops great grief
and shame, they set him on his horse again, with his
face towards the tail, and bidding him to pray for Bobin
Hood, they suffered him to go forward on his journey.

RENOWNED ROBIN HOOD

OB

HIS FAMOUS ARCHERY BEFORE QUEEN KATHEEINE, FOR WHICH

AT THAT TIME HIS PARDON, AND HIS FELLOWS, WAS

OBTAINED BY THE QUEEN.

Robin Hood having on all hands supplyed himself with
good store of gold, he sent thereof a considerable pre-
sent to Queen Katherine, with a petition to mediate to
his majesty for a pardon for himself and his associates.
The queen accepted of both, and sent one of her pages,
Richard Patrington by name, to advise him to come to
accomplish his request ; great was the hast that Pat-
rington made, being well mounted, he despatched within
the compass of two days and less, so long a journey.
Being come to Nottingham he foun&that friendship, that
on the next morning he was brought to Robin Hood's
place ; where acquainting him with his message from
the queen, he assured her by him, that he would not fail
to wait upon her majesty, and withal sent a small present
of his duty and observance. Immediately he cloathed
the chiefest of his men in Lincoln green, with black hats
and white feathers, all alike, and himself in scarlet, and
thus attended he came to London to the queen, who said

112 THE MEBBY EXPLOITS

unto him, welcome Locksly, the king is now gone into
Finsbury Field, to be present at a great game of shoot-
ing with the long-bow, and you come very seasonably
unto it, do you go before, I will presently be there my-
self : when Eobin Hood was come into Finsbury-fields,
the king spake unto Tephushis bow-bearer, and bad him
to measure out the line, to know how long the mark
should be : and the queen not long afterwards being sat
next unto him, the king asked of her, for what wager
they should shoot ? the queen made answer, the wager is
three hundred tun of Ehenish wine, and three hundred
tun of beer, and three hundred of the fattest bucks that
run on Dallum-Plains. Beshrew me, said the king, it is
a princely wager indeed ; well, mark out the ground ;
this immediately was done, and it was in length full
fifteen-score ; Glifton a famous archer about the town,
boasted that he would hit the clout every time. And
now the kings archers had shot three goles, and were
three for none ; but the queen nothing discouraged, de-
sired to know if any would be on her side, and Sir
Hi chard Lee, who was descended of the noble family of
the Gowers, standing close unto her, she encouraged
him to lay one wager ; but he being unwilling to make
so desperate adventure, she spake to the Bishop of
Hereford, who told her bluntly, that he would not bet
one penny on her side. For said he, those that shoot on
the kings side are excellent and experienced archers,
a ad those that you have made choice of, we know not
what they are, nor from whence they come ; I durst

Of BOBItf HOOD. 113

wager said the bishop, all that 1 have about me against
them. "What is that P said Robin Hood. Fifteen score
nobles, said the bishop, and that is almost one hundred
pounds : 'Tis right, said Robin Hood, I will lay with
you, and taking his bag of money from his side, he threw
it down upon the green : William Scharlock being pre-
sent, said, I will venture my life that I know before-
hand who shall win this wager.

Now the archers did begin to shoot again, and now
those whom the queen made choice of were equal with
those of the kings side, they were both three and three*
Whereupon the king spake aloud to the queen and said,
the next three must pay for all. Robin Hood in the
first place shot, and with such dexterity of art, that his
arrow entered into the clout, and almost touched the
black : he on the kings side that did second him, did
shoot well, and came very near unto the clout : then
shot Little John, and hit the black, at which the ladies
laught aloud, being now almost sure that the game
would go on their side, which Midge the millers son
confirmed ; for I know not at that time whether I may
most commend, his art or his fortune, but so it was that
he cleft the very pin in the middle of the black, and that
with such a twang of his bow, that it seemed that that
did proclaim the victory before the arrow came unto the
mark.

The queen having thus wan the wager, she fell down
on her knees before the king, and besought his majesty
that he would not be angry with any there present who

VOL. II. I

114 THE MERRY EXPLOITS

were on her side ; this the king (the day being designed
to mirth) did condescend unto, although he did not well
understand what she did mean by that petition. This
being granted, the queen said aloud, then welcome
Eobin Hood, and welcome Little John, welcome Midge
the millers son, and welcome every one of Eobin Hood's
company that is now in the field. Is this Eobin Hood ?
said the king, I thought he had been slain at the pallace-
gate in the North. The Bishop of Hereford turning
to the king, said unto him, may it pleasure your majesty,
this bold outlaw Eobin Hood, on Saturday was three
weeks, took from me five hundred pound in gold, and
bound me fast to a tree, and afterwards made me sing a
mass, and to those of his most unruly company that
were with him. "What if I did, said Eobin Hood, I was
full glad of it, for I had not heard mass before in many
a year ; and for recompence of it, behold sir bishop here
is half your gold. No, no, said little John, that must not
be, for master before we go, we are to give gifts to the
king and queens officers, and the bishops gold will serve
for all.

THE FAMOUS BATTEL BETWIXT ROBIN HOOD AND THE CUHTAL

FRYER, AND HOW THE FRYER LET ROBIN HOOD

FALL INTO THE WATER.

Eobin Hood, being now grown most famous for his
skill in archery, and being high in the favour of queen
Katherine, did return with much honour into Notting-
hamshire, whither being come, he instituted a day of

OF ROBIN HOOD. 115

mirth for himself and all his companions ; and wagers
were laid amongst them, who should exceed at this ex-
ercise, and who at that ; some did contend who should
jump farthest; some who should throw the bar, some
who should be swiftest a-foot in a race five miles in
length, others there were with which Little John was
most delighted, whodidstrive which of them should draw
the strongest bow, and be the best marksman : Let me
see, said Little John, which of you can kill a buck, and
who can kill a doe, and who is he can kill a hart, being
distance from it by the space of five hundred foot.
"With that Eobin Hood going before them, they went
directly to the forrest, where they found good store of
game feeding before them. "William Scarlock that drew
the strongest bow of them all, did kill a buck, and Little
John made choice of a barren fat doe, and the well
directed arrow did enter into the verWieart of it : and
Midge the millers son did kill a hart above five hundred
foot distant from him. The hart falling, Robin Hood
stroke him gently on his shoulder, and said unto him,
G-od's blessing on thy heart, I will ride five hundred
miles to find a match for thee. "William Scarlock hear-
ing him speak those words smiled, and said unto him,
master, what needs that ? here is a Curtal Fryer not far
off, that for a hundred pound will shoot at what distance
yourself will propound, either with Midge, or with your-
self. An experienced man he is, and will draw a bow
with great strength, he will shoot with yourself and with
all the men you have, one after another. Sayest thou

116 THE MEEBY EXPLOITS

so, Scarlock,replyed Robin Hood, by the grace of God, I
will neither eat nor drink till I see this Fryer thou dost
speak of. And having prepared himself for his journey,
he took Little John and fifty of his best archers with him,
whom he bestowed in a convenient place, as he himself
thought fitting. This being done, he run down into the
dale, where he found the Curtal Fryer walking by the
water side. He no sooner espyed him, but presently he
took unto him his broad sword and buckler, and put on
his head a steel bonnet. The Fryer not knowing who he
was, or for what intent he came, did presently arm him-
self to encounter with him. Robin Hood, coming neer
unto him, alighted from his horse, which he tyed to
a thorn that grew hard by, and looking wistly on the
Fryer, said unto him, carry me over the water thou
Curtal Fryer, or else thy life lyes at the stake. The
Frier made no more ado, but took up Robin Hood, and
carried him on his back (the story saith) deep water
he did stride, he spake not so much as one word to him,
but having carried him over, he gently laid him down
on the side of the bank : which being done the Fryer
said to Robin Hood. It is now my turn : therefore
carry me over the water thou bold fellow, or be sure I
shall make thee to repent it. Robin Hood to requite
the courtesie, took the Fryer on his back, and not
speaking the least word to him, carried him over the
water and laid him gently down on the side of the bank ;
and turning to him, he spake thus unto him as at first,
and bade him carry him over the water once more,or he

Or ROBIN HOOD. 117

Bbould answer it, with the forfeit of his life. The Fryer
in a smiling murmur took him up, and spake not a word
till he came in the midst of the stream, where being up
to the middle and higher, he did shake him from off his
shoulders, and said unto him. Now chuse thee, bold
fellow, whether thou wilt sink or swim. Robin Hood
being soundly washed, gat up on his feet, and pros-
trating himself on the water, did swim to a bush of
broom on the other side of the bank ; the Fryer swimed
to a willow tree, which was not far from it ; Robin
Hood taking his bow in his hand, and one of his best
arrows, did shoot at the Fryer, which the Fryer received
in his buckler of steel, and said unto him, shoot on,
shoot on thou bould fellow, if thou shootest at me
a whole summers day I will stand thy mark still. That
will I try said Robin Hood, and shot arrow after arrow
at him, until he had not one arrow left in his quiver.
He then laid down his bow, and drew out his sword,
which but two days before had been the death of three
men. Now hand to hand they meet with sword and
buckler ; the steel buckler defends whatsoever blow is
given : sometimes they make at the head, sometimes at
the foot, sometimes at the side, sometimes they strike
directly down, sometimes they falsifie their blows, and
come in foot and arm with a full thrust at the body ;
and being ashamed that so long they exercised their un-
profitable valour, and cannot hurt one another, they
.multiply their blows, they hack, they hewe, they slash,
they fome. At last Robin Hood desired the Fryer to

118 THE MEBBY EXPLOITS

hold his hand, and to give him leave to blow his horn-:
Thou wantest breath to sound it, said the Fryer, take
thee a little respite, for we have been five hours at it by
Fountain Abby clock. Robin Hood took his horn from
his side, and having sounded it three times, behold
where fifty lusty men, with their bended bows, came to
his assistance. The Fryer wondring at it : "Whose men,
said he, be these ? They are mine, said Robin Hood,
what is that to thee ? False loon, said the Fryer, and
making a little pause he desired Robin Hood to return
him the same courtesie which he gave him. "What is
that? s aid Robin Hood; thou soundest thy horn, said the
Fryer, three times, let me now but whistle three times.
I with all my heart, said Robin Hood, I were to blame
if I should deny thee that courtesie. "With that the
Fryer set his fist to his mouth, and whistled three times
so shrilly, that the place echoed again with it, and be-
hold three and fifty fair ban- dogs (their hairs rising on
their back, betokening their rage) were almost on the
backs of Robin Hood and his companions. Here is for
every one of thy men a dog, said the Fryer, and two for
thee : That is- foul play, said Robin Hood. He had
scarce spoken that word, but two dogs came upon him
at once, one before, another behind him, who although
they could not touch his flesh, (his sword had made so
swift a despatch of them) yet they tore his coat in two
pieces. By this time his men had so laid about them,
that the dogs began to flye back, and their fury to
languish into barking. Little John did so bestir him-

OF BOBIX HOOD. 119

self, that the Curtal Fryer admiring at hid courage and
his nimbleness, did ask him who he was: He made
him answer, I will tell the truth and not lye ; I am he
who is called Little John, and do belong to Robin Hood,
who hath fought with thee this day, five hours together,
and if thou wilt not submit unto him this arrow shall
make thee. The Fryer perceiving how much he was
over-powered, and that it was impossible for him to deal
with so many at once, did come to composition with
Robin Hood : The articles of agreement were these ;
That the Fryer should abandon Fountain Dale, and
Fountain Abby, and live with Robin Hood at his place
hot far from Nottingham, where for saying of mass, he
should receive a noble for every Sunday throughout the
year, and for saying of mass on every Holyday, a new
change of garment. The Fryer contented with these
conditions, did seal to the agreement. And thus by the
courage of Robin Hood and his yeomen he was inforced
at the last to submit, having for seven long years kept
Fountain Dale, not all the power thereabouts being able
to bring him on his knees.

THE NOBLE FISHER-MAN

OR
ROBIN HOOD'S PREFERMENT.

Shewing how he did win a prize at sea, and how he
gave one half of it to his dame, and the other to cha-
ritable uses.

The countreys and the cities being full of the exploits

120 THE MS BAY EXPLOITS

of Robin Hood and his companions, he resolved with
himself to make some adventure at sea, and to try if he
could be as famous at sea, as he was at land. Having
therefore called all his yeomen together, he did com-
municate unto them what was his resolution, but none
of them would consent unto it, nor any of them would
so much as go along with him in such an expedition.
Little John in whom he much trusted, and who was par-
taker with him in all his counsels, and in all his dangers,
was absolutely against it, and told him it was a madness
in him to harbour any thought of such an adventure :
"Wherefore Robin Hood did go alone by himself to Scar-
borough, where being clad in a seamans habit, he came
to a womans house by the waterside, and desired enter-
tainment. The good woman seeing him a tall likely
fellow, did ask him what his name was, he made answer,
Simon over the Lee. It is a good name, said she, and
I hope thou wilt make a good servant. If thou wilt be
my mao, I will give thee any wages that in reason thou
wilt demand. I have a ship of my own, and as good as
any that sails upon the sea, neither thou nor it shall
want for any accommodation. Robin Hood being con-
tent to serve, took covenant-money of her, and on the
next morning, the wind serving fair, the ship put forth
to sea, where Robin Hood had not been long, but he fell
very sick, the sea and he could not agree, which made
him in many loud ejaculations to vomit forth the chollar
against it. Besides, he was so extreamly unserviceable,
that the master of the ship repented a thousand times

OP ROBIN HOOP. 121

that he ever took him along with him, and every one
would call him the tall unwieldy lubber. When others
as they were a fishing would cast into the sea their baited
hooks, he would throw in nothing but his bare line,
without any hook or bait at all, which' amongst other
things made him so ridiculous, that a thousand times he
wished himself again either in Sherwood forrest or in
Plumpton park. At the last the master of the ship
espyed a Spanish man of war to make up to him, where-
fore he made away from her with all the speed he could,
but being impossible to out-sail her, they yielded them-
selves lost, and all the goods in the ship. Robin Hood
who called himself Simon over the Lee, seeing all men
in despair, took courage to himself, and bad his master
but give him his bow and his arrows, and he would deal
well enough with them all. Thou deal with them, said
the master, I think we all fare the worse in the ship, for
such a lubber as thou art. Robin grew angry at these
words, nevertheless taking his bow and arrows in his
hand, he went up to the deck, and drawing his arrow
up to the very head, killed one Spaniard, and by and by
another, and another. The master of the ship seeing
the Spaniards to drop so fast, encouraged his men, and
boarded the ship, where Robin Hood, alias Simon, be-
haved himself so manfully, that by his particular valour
they possessed themselves of the ship, in which they
found twelve thousand pound ; half of which money
Robin Hood allotted to his dame and her children, and
the other half to his companions in the. ship. No, said

122 THE MEEEY EXPLOITS

the master, it must not be so, Simon, for you have won

it with your own hands, and you shall be master of it ;

"Why then, said Robin Hood, it shall be as I have said.

Half of it shall go to my dame and her children, and

(since you refuse my bounty) the other half shall be for

the building of an aim-house for the maintenance of the
poor.

ROBIN HOOD'S CHASE :

OR,
THE MERRY PROGRESS BETWIXT ROBIN HOOD AND

KING HENRY.

Robin Hood returning to Sherwood forest, did commit
in Yorkshire a very strange exploit ; I cannot well tell
whether he was overseen with wine or rage, but cer-
tainly it was one of the worst things that ever he did. It
was brought to the kings ear, who protested that such a
fact should not escape unpunished : and because the
sherriffs had heretofore complained that they could not
take him, he was reBolved to ride in pursuit of him him-
self. Being therefore come with a royal retinue unto
Nottingham, all the county was laid for him ; which
Robin Hood understanding, he by the advice of Little
John, did privately convey himself from Sherwood for-
rest into Yorkshire : there were none with him but Little
John, his cozen Gamwel, William Scarlock, and two or
three more. The king being informed that he was
escaped into Yorkshire, did follow him with all the
speed that could be, and hue and crys were every where
issued out to apprehend him. "Which Robin Hood

OF ROBUST HOOD. 123

knowing, he fled out of Yorkshire to Newcastle ; and
from thence to Berwick : he had not continued there
long, but ty dings were brought that the king was gone
in the pursuit of him, he was therefore constrained to
go to Carlisle, where Little John being known, his stay-
was very short, and away he posted unto Lancaster,' and
from thence to Chester, where being in great danger to
be betrayed, he conceived with himself that the only
way for his safety was to ride to London ; where having
procured admittance to the queen he told her that he
understood that the king was in several places to speak
with him, which caused him to come thither, to know
what his majesty would have with him. The queen told
him, she would do the best she could for him; and that
the king going away told her, that he was taking a
journey on purpose to seek him out. Having thus dis-
patched his business at court, the king within few days
afterwards came to it, where finding by the queen that
Robin Hood understandinghis majesty would speak with
him, had been there to speak with him. He is a cun-
ning knave, said the king. The queen falling down on
her knees, besought him that (for his welcome to court)
he would for once give her the life of that poor Outlaw ;
which being condescended to, Bobin Hood dismissed all
his idle companions, and betaking himself to a civil
course of life, he did keep a gallant house, and had
over all the country, the love of the rich, and the
prayers of the poor.

THE END.

APPENDIX.

LIFE OF BOBIN HOOD.

From MS. Sloan. 715. nu. 7. f. 157.

Robik Hood was borne at Lockesley in yorke-
shyre, or after others in Notinghamsh. in y e dayes
of Henry y e 2 n , d about y e yeare 1160, but lyued
tyll y e latter end of Rich 1 ! y e fyrst, he was of wol *
parentage, but so ryoto 8 y* he lost or sould his
patrimony £ for debt became an outlawe, the
ioyning to him many stout fellowes of like dis-
posicon, amongst whome one called little John
was principal, or next to him they hauted about
Barnsdale forrest t> Clopton parke, S such oth r
places, they vsed most of al shooting wherin
they excelled all the me of the land, though as
occatio required, they had al so oth r weapons, one
of his first exployts was y e goyng abrode into a

* Ritson says, " though the material word is illegible,
the sense evidently requires noble. 9 '

t Qy. Plompton Park in Cumberland, formerly very large
and set apart for keeping of the king's deer.

LIFE OF ROBIN HOOD. 125

forrest, 8c bearing w 1 * him a bowe of exceeding
great strength, he fell in to copay w th certayne
rangers or woodme, who fell to quarrel w th him
as making showe to vse such a bowe as no ma
was able to shoote w tb all, wherto Robin replyed
y* he had two better the that at Lockesley, only
he bare y* w* 11 him nowe as a byrding bowe, at
length the cotententio * grewe so hote, y* there
was a wager layd about the kylling of a deere
a great distance of, for pformace wherof, Eobin
ofired to lay his head to a certayne some of money,
of y e advantage of w<* rash speach the oth ra
p'sently tooke, so the marke being found out, one
of the, they were both to make his hart faynt 8c
hand vnsteady as he was about to shoote vrged
him w th y e losse of his head if he myst y e marke,
notw^tading Eobin J^yld y e deare, 8c gaue evry
ma his money agayne saue to him w ch at y e poynt
of shooting so vpbrayded him w th dag; to loose
his hed, for that . . . ey he sayd they would drinke
to geyth r 8c herevpo the oth r stomached y e matter,
5 fro quarelling they grewe to fighting v/^ him,
but Eobin getting him somewhat of Yf^ shooting
dispact the 8c so fled away 8c the betaking him
selfe to Hue in the woods by such booty as he
could get his company encreast to an hiidred
and a halfe, 8c in those dayes whether they were

* So MS. for " contention."

126 lit* of mosnr hood.

fkvord or how so ev thev were coated invincible,
wheresoeir' he hard of an j y* were of vnvsoal
strength £ hardynes, he would disgyse him selfe
£ rath r the fayle go lyke a beggj to become ac-
quejnted w* the £ aft? he had trjed the w*

fyghting nev gine the over tyl he had rsed means
to drawe the to lyre aft* his fashio ; afb such man
he ncord y* pyner of wakefeyld to become one
of his company £ a freyr called Muchel, though
some say he was an oth r kynd of religio' ma, for
y* y e order of freyrs was not yet sprang yp ; Scar-
lock, he induced vpo this occacon one day meting
him as he walked solitary, £ lyke to a ma forlorne
because a mayd to whom he was affyaced was
take fro by the violence of her freds £ giue to
anoth 7 y* was auld £ welthy, whervpo Bobin vn-
derstandyng whe y* maryage day should be, came
to y* church as a begg r , £ having his compay not
far of, w° h came in so sone as they hard y* sound
of his home, he toking y c bryde pforce fro him
y* was in hand to have maryed her & caused the
preist to wed her £ Scarlocke togeyth r . amongst
oth r y* greatly freded him was S* Eich d Lee a
knight of Lancashire lord of • • . rso . . castle £
that first vpo this occatio it was the man' of
• Robin £ his retinue to lyue by theiving £ robbing
though yet he were somewhat religiously affected,
£ not w th out supstitio, but of al sayts he most
honored y e vgin mary, so y l if any for her sake

LIFE OF B0BIIT HOOD. 127

asked ought of him, he wold pforme it if possibly
he could, neith r would ho suffer any y fc belonged
vnto him to violate wome poreme, or any of the
husbadry, al theyr attempts were chiefly against
fat p'lats & religious psons 5 howses fryres, and
he is comeded of John Mayor for y e prince of all
theyues 5 robbers &c. ; nowe once it hapned him
to send little John Scarlock 8c Muchel to y e sayles
vpo watling streete to meete w th some booty they
wanted when any prey came to theyr hands to lead
them into y e wood to theyr habitacon, as if they
would vse some hospitalitye, but after they had eate,
would make the pay deerely for theyr cates, by strip-
ping the of such things as they had, so they dealt
^th S* Eichard Lee leading to theyr m r who made
him y 6 best cheare they had 5 whe S r Eich 11 . would
have depted only w th giving the thaks, Eobin tould
him it was not his man^ to dyne any where but he
payd for such things as he tooke, & so should oth ra do
to him ere they pted 5 it were as he sayd no good
mans to refuse such doing, y e knight tould him he
had but x'? w^ h he ment should have borne his
charges at Blyth or doncastre E if he had none
y* fared ful yl w th him at y e tyme to pte fro
it onely he promised as he should be able to
requite his curtesy w th y e lyke, but Eobin not
so cotented caused him to be searcht & found
no more but what y e knight had told him of,
wherevpo he comended his true dealing £ en-

128 LIFE OF ROBIN HOOD.

quired furth' touching y e cause of his sadness &
barenes, y e knight tould him the of his state E
ancestry 5 how his soiie 5 hayre falling at
varingc w th a knight in Lacashire, slewe him in
y e feild, for w ch £ some oth r such lyke exployts,
being in dang r to loose his lyfe, the knight to
pcure his deliverance, had 'been at great charges
£ eve lastly dryve to pawn his castle £ lyving to
y e abbot of 8* Maryes at yorke for 400rj E the
cheife Justice so dealt w 1 * y e abbot for his state
or invest therein, that being lyke to forfeyt
his lyving for lacke of money to redeeme it at
y« day appoynted, he despayred now of al recv/y ;
Robin the pittying his case gave him 4001j w ch was
pte of suche bootyes as they had go^d, E suerty
for payment againe w th in a tweluemonth was
o; lady, they also furnysht him w th apparel out of
w** he was worne quyte £ therefore for very
shamement shortly to have past ov y e seas & to
spend y e rest of his lyfe as a mournful pylgrime in
going to Jerusale Ec. but being now enlightned
he despayred iust as his day appoynted to y e
abbot w 1 * where the cheife in shire convsed ac-
counting al the knights lands saued to theselues,
E y e knight to try theyr charity made shewe as if
he wanted money to pay the debt E whe he
found no toke of copassio left the the money
E recoved his land for w ch that paym* were
made he offred to ferme (farm) y e abbot there-

LIFE OP ROBIX HOOD. 129

by. nowe ere y e twelvemonth was expyred
S r Richard pvyded y e 4003j 5 a hundred shefe
of good arrowes w cb he ment to bestowe on
Robin hoode, 5 encoutring on y e way certayne
people y* were wr&stling for a great wag;, he
stood stil to see y e event of y e matt;, so there
was a yema y fc p^vayled but y e oth* pie enuying
it & y e rather because he was but pore 5 alone
accorded among the . . to opp's him w th wrongs,
th* y c knight tooke his pte & rescued him 5 at
parting gaue him 5 marks. Nowe it befell,
y* neere to Notingha al the cheifest archers had
appoynted a day of shooting for some great
wag r , the Sherife him selfe being appoynted to
see the game, nowe that sheriffe was a fel
advsary to Robin £ his copany, & he againe of
the no lesse maligned, therfore to see into al
matt™ little John was sent in disguysed man; to
go shoote amongst the, where he sped him so
wel, y* y e shyryfe iudged him to be y c best
archer, & so importuned him to be his ma y* little
John went home w^ him vnd r the name of Ray-
nold greenlefe, & telling him he was borne in
Holdernes, so little John watched al advatages
to do his m r some myscheife, & vnd r standing
where he vsed to goe a huting, by some means
pcured his m r Robyn hood & his retinue to be in
redynes ther about, so one day y e shyryfe 5 al
his people bin gone a huting, little John of pur-

VOL. II. k

130 LIFE OF BOBJLK HOOD

pose kept behinde E lay a bed as somewhat
sicke, but was no son* gat vp enquired for his
djnj of y* steward w cb w h curse words denyed
him victuals tyl his m r were come home, whervpo
little John beate him downe E entred the buttry
y e cooke being a very stout fellowe fought w 111
him a long tyme, E at length accorded to goe
w th him to y e forrest, so they two ryfled the howse,
tooke away al the shyryfes treasure E best
thinges, £ covayed it to Eobin hood, £ the little
John repayred to y e shyryfe, who in his huting
doubted no such matt r , but tooke him for one of
his cdpany, whervpo little John tould him he had
seene y e goodlyest heard of deere y* was in y e
forest not far of seve score in a copany w 6 * 1 he
could bring him to, y e sheryfe glad to heare of so
strange a matt r , went w th him tyl he came where
y e dang r of Eobyn hood E his company who led
him to theyr habitacio . . . . E there s'ued him
w th his owne plate E oth r thinges y* little John
E y e cooke had brought away, so y fc night they
made him ly on y e ground afV theyr owne man r
wrapt in a greene mantel, E the next day sent
him away, aft r they had take an oth of him nev^
to pursve the but y e best he could do to serue the,
but y e shyriffe afterward made no more account
of y e othe the was meete yt. After this little John,
Scarlocke, E oth re were sent forth to meete w th
some copany, if they were pore to helpe the

XIPE OF EOBIN HOOD. 131

w th some such thinges as they bad, if rytch to
handle the as they saw occasid, so vppo the way
neare Barensdale, they met w th 2 blacke monkes
wel horsed & accopanyed w th 50 psons nowe
because Robin theyr m r had o r lady in great
revence whe any booty came to theyr hand they
would say o r lady sent the theyr wherfore whe
little John sawe y* company he merily vsed such
pvbe to his fellowes encoraging the to y e en-
counter & coming to the monkes he tould
the that though they were but 3, they durst
nev r see theyr m r agayne, but if they brought
the to diner to him ; & who the monke keapt
of, little John* beged to speake repchfully for
making his m r stay diner so long, whervpo
who y e monkes enquired for his m rs . name, Jc little
John tould him it was Robin hood, y e monk an-
gerly replyde he was an arrant theif, of whom he
nev r hard good, little John reply ed as contume-
liously, saying he was a yeoma of y e forrest & bad
him to dyiier, so the grewe fro wordes to strokes
tyl they had kyled al but one or 2, w ch they led
pforce to theyr m r , who saluted the lowely, but y e
monke being stout harted, did not the lyke to his,
the Bobin blewe his horn, & his retinue came in,
they al went to dyn r , & after y * Robin asked him of
what abbey he was, who tould he was of S fc Mary,
now it was to y e same to whose abbat y e knight
ought y e 400lj w ch Robin lent him to redeeme his

132 LIFE Of BOBIK HOOD.

landes w th , al w ch Eobin pceying, begon to iest
y* he mvayled o r lady had not sent him yet his
pay w* h she was surety for betwixt a knight E
him, have no care M r sayd little John, yon need
not to say this monk hath brought it I dare wel
swere, for he is of her abbey, so Eobin called for
wyne 8c dranke to him, E prayed him to let him
see if he had brought him y* money, y* monke
swore he had nev r hard speach of such coven 1
before, but Eobyn bare him downe he dessembled
seing he knewe both Christ E his moth r were so
iust, E he confessing him self to be theyr evy
dayes servant E messeng* must needs have it, E
therfore thanked him for coming so at his day,
y' monke stil denying, Eobin asked howe much
money he had about him, but xx ty m r kes sayd y*
monke, the sayd Eobin if we fynd more we will take
it as of o* ladyes sending, but wil not of y* w ch is thy
owne spending money, so little John was sent to
search his bagges, E found about 800rj, w ch he related
to his m r , telling him w th al y* o r lady had dobled his
paym 1 , yea I tould thee monke, sayd Eobyn, what a
trusty woma she is, so he called for wyne £ drake to
y e monke bidding him comend him to o r lady, E if
she had need of Eobin hood, she should fynd him
thakeful for so lib'al dealing, the they searcht y e lode
of another horse, wherefore the monke tould him y*
was no curtesy to bid a ma to dyn E beate E bynd
him, E it is o r man Bayd Eobin to leave but a litle be-

LIFE OF BOBII* HOOD. 133

hind, so ye monke made hast to be gone, 5 sayd he
might have dyned as good cheape at Blyth or Docas-
tre, 5 Eobyn cal'd to him as he was going, E bad him
greete wel his abbot E the rest of their covent, E
wysh the to send hym such a monke ech day to dyn^
the shortly came y e knight to keepe his day & aft;
salutacos was about to pay him his money, besyd xx^
rnkes for his curtesy, but Robyn gave it him agayn©
telling him howe o r lady had sent him y t E more by y e
abbeys cellerer, 5 it were to him a shame to be twyse
paycf, but y* bowes E arrowes he accepted for w* he
gave him at parting oth r 400ij. Nowe y« shyrifFe of
^Notingha, to drawe out Robin hood, made to be
pclaymed a day of shooting for y e silv arrowe, wherto
Eobin boldely w^ al his trayne repayred, apoynting
but 6 of his copany to shooting w* him al- y e rest to
stand apoynted to f. f. g. . . d him,* so little John,
.Eobin, mychel, Scarlock, Gylberfc, E Eeynold shot,
but Eobin won y e prise fro al, whervpo the shyryfe E
his company bega to quarrel, 5 aft; they came to
fighting so long tyl, Robin E his complices had des-
troyed y* sheryfes trayne for y 6 most gte in y e coflyct,,
little John was sore wounded w tb an arrow in y e knee,
E being not able to goe requested his m r to slay him,
E not suffer him to come into y e sheryffes handes,
avoucht he would not loose him for al England,
wherfore mychel was appoynted to beare him away on-
his back, E w th much labo r , E of t resting, he brought

* Qy to safeguard him.

134 LIFE OF ROBItf HOOD.

him to S r Richard Lees castle, wheth r also aft; y e
broyle repayred Robin himself & ye rest of his com-
pany, where they were gladly receyved E defended
ag 8t the sheryffe who p'sently raysed y e cotry E be-
seyged the castle who vtterly refused to yield any
there tyl he knewe y e kyng mynd. the y e shyriffe
went to londd, E enformed y e king of al y e matt;,
who dispatched y e shyryfe backe to levy a power of
me in y* cotry telling him y* w th in a fortnight aft;,
he him selfe would be at Notingha to det;myne of y fc
matt r , in y e meane whyle little John being cured of
his hurt, they al got the to y e forest agayne, who the
shyriffe hard therof he was much agreyed E sought by
al means to app'hend S r Richard Lea for defynding
the, E watching his tyme at vnwares, he surprysed
him w 1 * a power of me as he was at hawking, E went
to put him in ward at Notingha £ hang him, wherfore
the knightes Lady rode in al hast to Robin, E gaue
him intelligence of her Lordes distres, who in al
hast pursued y e sheryfe E ovtaking him at Notingha

w th an arrowe slewe him E if his head,

enquyring what message he brought fro y« kyng,
obiecting y* breach of pmise he had made to
them in y c forest, once after y* they ovthrewe
y e sheryfe returned E loosed y c (knyghte) out of his
bondes, E furnyshing him w th weapons, tooke him
w th them to y e forest, entending to vse what means
they could to pcure y e kyng; pardon, who p'sently
herevpo came to Nottingha w th a. great retinue, E

LIFE OF ROBIN IIOOD. 135

vnderstanding of y e matt r seysed ye knighte lyv-
ing into his hande E surweying al the forrestea in
Lancash. he came to Ploutu parke, E fynding al
the deare destroyed he was mvaylo 8 wroth, seek-
ing about for Robin hood E making pclamatio,
y* who so could bring him S r Rich d Lees head
should have all his land, so y e king stayed about
Nottingha halfe a yeare, E could not heare of
Robyn tyl being advysed what a hard had he
bare against religion psons, he got him into a
monkes weed, E w th a smal company went as a
traveller on y e way wher he thought Robyn made
abode who espying the w th theyr male horse, toke
hold of y e kyng; horse making showe as he toke
him for an abbot, E bega to enquire afb some
spending, but the king excused y e matter, telling
him howe he had lyen at Notingha at great
charges a fortnight, £ had lef him but fourtyij.
so Robin toke y*, E . having devyded it amongst
his me, gave y** kyng pte againe, who semed to
take it in good pte, E the puld out the kyng; brode
seale E tould him howe the kyng did greet him wel, E
charged him to come to Notingha, whervpd Robin
kneeled downe E thanked y e abbot, for he ptended to
thinke him none oth r for bringing such a message fro
him, y* he loved most dearly of al me E tould him, y*
for his labor he should go dyne w th him, so being
brought to y e place of theyr abode, Robyn blewe his
home E all his copay came al a hoste obedyent to

136 LIFE OF EOBTN HOOD.

theyr m r , the kyng mvayled, w ch Robyn pceyving dyd
him selfe w th his best me s'ue y e kyng at nieete of
welcomfg him for y e kyng^ sake as hesayd,the he showed
him y e course of theyr lyues 5. skyl in shooting y* he
might enforme y e kyng therof, 5 in shooting pposed
this penalty to him y* shot one of y e garland y* y e abbot
should giue hym a good buffet, £ for the nonce made
him selfe to forfayt, & whe the abbot refused to stryke
him, saying it fel not for his order, but Robyn would
not cease tyl he made him smyte him soundly y* he
fel to y° ground, for w oh Robyn commended him but
Robyn him selfe stroke his me as they fayled afterw^.
Robyn discoved howe he peeved it was the kyng, 5 to
geyther w th S r Richard & his me, kneeled downe &
asked forgiuenes, w ch the kyng grauted, vpo codicon he
would be fore him at y e court, so Robyn arayed the
kyng 8E his copay in mantels of lyncolne greene, 5
wet w th the to Notingha, the kyng seeming also to be
one of the outlawes & y e th . . . d the kyng for shoot*
ing togeyth r for buffits, Robyn oft boxt y* kyng, 5
people suspecting they should be al destroyed by
Robyn & his copany, ra away tyl the kyng discovered
him selfe E cdforted the, £ the ech one was fayne the
was a great feast for al people, & S* Richard Lee had his
lady restored, for w 1 * Robin gave the kyng humble
thank;, the Robyn dwelt in the court a yeare, tyl w** 1
lavysh spending, he had nothing left to mayntaynhim
selfe & his me, £ there-f. all were depted fro him but
little John & Scarlocke, & on a tyme seing youngs

LIFE OF BOBIW HOOD. 137

sters shooting, it come to his mynd howe he was alien-
ated fro y* exercyse, for w ch he was very greyued, E
cast in his mynd howe to get away, wherfore he devy-
sed to tell y e kyng howe he had erected a chapel in
Barnsdale of Mary Magdalen, E bene sore troubled in
dreaming about it, E therefore craved lib'ty to go a
pilgrymage thetg h barefoote, so y e kyng gaue him a
week resp* for goyng E coming, but Robyn being
come thy 1 *, assembled his awld trayne E nev returned
backe to y e court, after w ch tyme he contynued y fc course
of lyfe about xx ty years, tyl distemped w th could E age
he had great payne in his lymes, his bloud being cor-
rupted, therefore to be eased of his payne by letting
blud, he repayred to y e priores of Kyrkesly, w ch some
say was his aunt, a worn very skylful in physique E
surgery, who pceyving him to be Eobynhood, E way-
in'ghowe fel an emy he was to religio" psons,toke reveng
of him for her owne howse E all oth ra , by letting him
bleed to death, E she buryed him vnd r a greate stone
by y e hy waves syde. It is also sayd, y* one S 1 Eoger
of Dancastre, bearing grudge to Eobyn for some in-
jury, incyted y e prioress, w th whom he was very familiar
in such man to dispatch him, E the al his company was
soone despsed ; the place of little Johns buryal is to
this, the celebro^ for the yeelding of excellent whet*
stones.

TINIS.

GEORGE A GREEN.

GEORGE A GREEN.

Though the fame of George A Green, be not so
widely extended, nor his positive existence so clearly-
ascertained as that of his more exalted cotemporary
Robin Hood, the History of the Pindar of "Wakefield,
cannot fail to be considered as an appropriate addition
to that of the hero of Sherwood ; and when we examine
the characters of the heroes and the incidents of their
respective stories, we shall easily account for the more
extended renown of England's Merry Outlaw, by
supposing the imaginative and poetical character with
which his life passed in the green wood, has been
clothed, and the feeling of universal benevolence with
which his actions were tinctured, to have been more
attractive to the people generally, than the simple va-
lour and readiness of invention of the Pound Keeper of
"Wakefield. While therefore it is observed of Robin
Hood, that his " story and exploits have been made the
subject as well of various dramatic exhibitions, as of
innumerable poems, rimes, songs, and ballads," the
enumeration of the various productions of which the
Pindar is the subject, is a task which may easily be
performed.

142 pbefJlCe.

A ballad " of Wakefield and a Green/ 9 was printed
by the widow of Robert Toy or Toye, who died in 1556,
but whether the same with the following which is
printed in Ritson's Eobin Hood, vol. 2. p. 16, cannot
be ascertained.

THE JOLLY PINDAR OF WAKEFIELD,

WITH

ROBIN HOOD, SCARLET, AND JOHN.

From an old black letter copy in A. a Wood's col-
lection, compared with two other copies in the British
Museum, one in black letter. It should be sung " to
an excellent tune," which has not been recovered.

Several lines of this ballad are quoted in the two old
plays of the '• Downfall" and "Death of Robert earl of
Huntingdon." 1601, 4to. b. 1. but acted many years
before. It is also alluded to in Shakspeare's Merry
Wives of Windsor, Act. 1. sc. 1. and again in his
second part of King Henry IV. Act. 5. scene 3.

In Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder,

In Wakefield all on a green

In Wakefield all on a green:
There is neither knight nor squire, said the pinder,

Nor baron that is so bold,

Nor baron that is so bold,
Dare make a trespas to the town of Wakefield

But his pledge goes to the pinfold, &c.

PREFACE. 143

All this be heard three witty young men,

Twas Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John ;
With that they espy'd the jolly pinder

As he sat under a thorn.

Now turn again, turn again, said the pinder,

For a wrong way have you gone,
For you have forsaken the kings highway,

And made a path oyer the corn.

O that were a shame, said jolly Robin,

We being three and thou but one.
The pinder leapt back then thirty good foot.

Twas thirty good foot and one.

He leaned his back fast unto a thorn,

And his foot against a stone,
And there he fought a long summers day,

A summers day so long,
Till that their swords on their broad bucklers,
Were broke fast into their hands.

Hold thy hand, hold thy hand said bold Robin Hood,

And my merry men every one;
For this is one of the best pinders,

That ever I tryed with sword.

And wilt thou forsake thy pinders craft,

And live in the green-wood with me,
" At Michaelmas next my covenant comes out,

When every man gathers his fee;

144 PBEFACE.

Then I'le take my blew Made all in my hand,
And plod to the grenwood with thee."

Hast thou either meat or drinke, said Robin Hood,
For my merry men and me.

I have both bread* and beef said the pinder,

And good ale of the best.
And that is meat good enough, said Robin Hood,

For such unbidden ' guests.'

" O wilt thou forsake the pinder his craft,
And go to the greenwood with me ?

Thou shalt have a livery twice in the year,
The one green the other brown."

u

If Michaelmas day was come and gone,
And my master had paid me my fee,
Then would I set as little by him
As my master doth by me."

This it will be perceived is the incident described in
the tenth chapter of the present work, and for the
valour displayed by the Pindar, upon this and all simi-
lar occasions, his name has passed into a proverb, and
" as good as G-eorge A Green," is a saying in use even
at the present time.

A Play entitled " George A Green" was played on
the 28th of December, 1593, by the Lord Strange' s
company, and the " Pinner of "Wakefield," which

PBEFACE. 145

seems to be a different play on the 8th January 1593-4.
— " A pleasant conceyted comedie of George A Greene
" the Pinner of Wakefield. As it was sundry times
" acted by the servants of the Eight Honourable the
" Earl of Sussex, Imprinted at London by Simon Staf-
" ford, for Cuthbert Benby : and are to be sold at his
" Shop neare the Eoyall Exchange, 1599." 4to. which
is reprinted in the third volume of the last edition of
Dodsley's Old Plays, nearly resembles in its incidents
the present tale, and the variations which are to be
found in it, may most probably be attributed to the
fancy of the author whoever he was, rather than to his
having followed any different version of the story.

The Editor would have been very glad to have pro-
cured a copy of the " Pinder of Wakefield, being the
History of George A Greene, the lusty Pinder of the
north, briefly shewing his manhood, and his brave mer-
riment amongst his boon companions : full of pretty
histories, songs, catches, jests, and riddles," 4to. bl,
letter, 1632. which sold at the sale of Sir Robert Gor-
don's Library for 6Z. 1*. but after many fruitless
attempts he has been obliged to relinquish the hope of
doing so, and to print the present tale, which though
dated at a much later period would seem by its style
to be of considerable antiquity.

VOL. II. L

146 PBEFACE.

Since the present edition was undertaken he has
made fresh endeavours to ascertain where that His-
tory is now deposited. These have failed, but he is
satisfied that it is altogether a different work from the
present.

The following quotations may serve to show the
estimation in which our hero was held by the writers.

Drayton, describing the progress of the river Calder,
in the West-Biding of Yorkshire, has the following
lines:

«* It chanced she in her course on " Kirkley" cast her eye,

Where merry Robin Hood, that honest thief doth lie;

Beholding fitly too before how Wakefield stood,

She doth not only think of lusty Robin Hood,

But of his merry man, the pindar of the town

Of Wakefield, George A Green, whose fames so far are blown,

For their so valiant fight, that every freeman's song

Can tell you of the same, quoth she, be talk'd on long

For ye were merry lads, and those were merry days."

And Richard Brathwaite, in his Strappado for the
Divell, 1615. 8vo. p. 203 says :

But haste my muse, in colours to display

Some auncient customes in their high-roade way,

*****

At least such places labour to make known,
As former times have honour'd with renown.

PBBFACE. . 147

So by thy true relation 't may appear

They are no others now, than as they were

Ever esteemed by auncient times records,

Which shall be shadowed briefly in few words.

The first whereof that I intend to show,

Is merry Wakefield and her Pindar too:

Which fame hath blaz'd with all that did belong,

Unto that towne in many gladsome song :

The Pindar's valour and how firm he stood.

In th' townes defence 'gainst the rebell Robin Hood,

How stoutly he behav'd himselfe and woulde

In spite of Robin bring his horse to th' fold;

His many Maygames which were to be seene,

Yeerely presented upon Wakefield greene,

Where lovely Jugge and lusty Tib would go,

To see Tom Lively turne upon the toe;

Hob, Lob, and Crowde the fiddler would be there,

And many more I will not speak e of here:

Good God, how glad hath been this hart of mine

To see that towne which hath in former time

So fiourish'd and so gloried in her name,

Famous by the Pindar who first raised the same;

Yea, I have paced ore that greene and ore

And th' more I saw 't I tooke delight the more,

For where we take contentment in a place

A whole dales walke seems as a cinquepace.
* * * * •

Unto thy taske my muse and now make knowne,
The jolly shoo-maker of Bradford towne,
His gentle craft so raised in former time.
By princely journey -men his discipline,
Where he was wont with passengers to quaffe
But suffer none to carry up their staffe

148 . PREFACE.

Upon their shoulders, whilst they past through town,
For if they did, he soon would heat diem downe,
80 valiant was the floater and from hence,
Twixt Robin Hood and him grew th' difference;
Which, cause it is by most stage poets writ,
For brevity, I thought good to omit."

Oar gallant Pindar, is thus facetiously commemo-
rated by Drunken Barnaby.

" Hinc diverso curso, sero
Quod audissem de pindero
Wakefeeldensi; gloria mundi
Ubi socii sunt jucundi,
Mecom statoi peragrare
Georgii fbstem visitare."

u Turning thence none could me hinder
To salute the Wakefield pindar;
Who indeed is the world's glory,
With his comrades never sorry,
This was the cause, lest you should miss it,
George's club I mean to visit."

" Veni Wakefield peramaenum,
Ubi querens Georgium Greenum,
Non inveni, sed in lignum
Fixum reperi Georgii signum,
Ubi allam bibi feram w

'Donee Georgio fortior eram."

<( Straight at Wakefield I was seen a
Where I sought for George A Green a j

PBE1MCE. 149

But could not find such a creature,

Tet on a sign I saw his feature,

Where strength of ale had so much stirr'd me,

That I grew stouter far than Jordie."

I may here add, that having endeavoured through
the medium of Notes and Quebies to ascertain in
whose possession The Tinder of Wakefield of 1632
now is, I was favoured with communications from Mr.
Sternberg and Mr. Halliwell on the subject of a MS.
of the Story to be found in the Library of Sion Col-
lege. Upon reference to that manuscript it proved
to be, as I suspected from information which reached
me soon after the publication of this romance in 1827,
the manuscript lodged in a public library in the city
of London referred . to by " N. W." in the preface
to his edition of 1706. I ought to add that upon
examination it appeared that the few alterations
" necessary to make the sense tolerably congruous,"
which N. W. had ventured to introduce were of a very
unimportant character.

THE HISTORY

or

GEORGE A GREEN,

PINDAB OF THE TOWN OF WAKEFIELD.

HIS BIRTH, CALLING, VALOUR, AND REPUTATION
IN THE COUNTRY.

WITH

DIVBRS PLEASANT, AS WELL A8 SERIOUS PASSAGES IN THE COURSE OF

HIS LIFE AND FORTUNE.

Famam extendere Factis:

Hie Virtutis Opus.-

Virg. Lib. JEneid. 10.

LONDON :

PBINTED FOB SAMUEL BALLARD, AT THE BLUE-BALL,
IK LITTLE BBITAIK. 1706.

TO THE STEWARD,

AND OTHER THE

GENTLEMEN AND INHABITANTS
IN THE TOWN AND LORDSHIP OF WAKEFIELD,

IN THE

WEST RIDING OF THE COUNTY OF YORK.

Gentlemen,'

To whom but to you should I address this History of
George A Green, who was some time the Pindar of
your good town of Wakefield. Tour ancestors were
those that fostered him, when an orphan ; they were
also those, on whom in his maturer years, with great
generosity and unanimity, they conferred the Pindar-
ship ; and it cannot be believed, that you, their des-
cendants, will now in this dress refuse him that pro-
tection, which he according to his wonted singular
modesty, not only implores, but with all due submis-
sion, thinks himself in some measure intituled to.

Tour townsman, gentlemen, he was, born among
you; exceedingly beloved in his lifetime; and his
memory is still fresh and survives with you, for his
valour, courage, and the many good services he did
you.

154 BPISTLE DEDICATOET.

I shall not, gentlemen, anticipate your expectations
by enumerating here the glorious acts perform'd by
him ; they will best appear by the ensuing history,
which is now put into your hands, in humble expecta-
tion of your favourable acceptance.

Gentlemen, as seeing the Pindar cannot but pro-
mise himself in this manner a kind reception from
you ; it would be a crime to question you should be
any ways wanting in your civilities to the fair Bea-
trice, who was as celebrated for her vertue and beauty,
as George was for his valour and courage. -

As for the other persons that are necessarily intro-
duced to render the story congruous and the more
intelligible, you are free to judge of them, as you
think fit. All that I desire is, leave to hope that your
censure will be favourable both in respect to them,
and to Gentlemen,

Your humble Servant,

THE PREFACE.

Wakefield is a market-town in the West-Biding
of Yorkshire, in the Hundred of Agbridge, upon the
river Calder, here covered with a fair stone bridge,
which Edward the Fourth, king of England, adorn' d
with a stately chappel: its a large town, well built
of stone, of good antiquity, and drives the cloathing
trade. Of this place it was, that George A Green
was chosen Pindar, so long since as the reign of king
Richard the First, as you'll find in the sequel of the
history.

As for Pindar, 'tis a peculiar word and office in the
north of England, that implies, one that looks after
strays, and the like, being much the same as pound-
keeper in the southern parts of the kingdom.

That there was such a person as George A Green,
who was Pindar of the town of Wakefield, I think,
is not at all to be doubted, from many considerations ;
to say nothing of the many signs we have of him, not
only in and about London, but in several other parts,

156 PBEFACE.

the constant and uninterrupted tradition from father
to son, they have retain' d of him to this day in the
north, and more especially in the place of his nativity,
is no small proof of it.

Indeed, I do not find the Pindar's name mention' d
in any of our chronicles, but those of Eobin Hood
and Little John, who were George's contemporaries,
being recorded in Hollingshead, and there being some
of the descendants of Little John, who bore, and they
from him, the surname of Nailor, still, or at least
very lately, in being in the kingdom, I cannot con-
ceive this makes against, but rather for our present
history, the actions of the other two, in all probability,
happening to become more cognizable to that chro-
nicler, upon account of their being outlaws, and the
depredations they committed, than those of George's
who, as he continued stedfast in his loyalty to his
prince, follow'd also an honest and lawful calling:
its true, he was as conspicuous, and rather more
for his valour, than any of them all; which must
needs recommend him to the good opinion of the
brave and generous ; and 'tis not to be imagined that
any should value him the less, because he was more
vertuous than the other.

I confess, it pleases me not a little, that George is
taken notice of by Mr. Butler, the famous author of
Hudibras, an immortal piece ; and the same seems to

PREFACE. 157

be a confirmation upon the main of the truth of this
history : for in his first canto of the second part,
having brought Hudibras to promise his mistress he
would suffer a whipping, on condition she would
have him, and being not able to perswade his man
Ralpho to undergo the punishment for him, he fell to
threats, as if he would beat him, saying,

If not, resolve before we go,
That yon and I must poll a crow.

to which the other answer' d,

y had best (quoth Ralpho) as the ancients
Say wisely, have a care' th' main chance,
And look before you, e're you leap ;
For as you sow, y* are like to reap.
And were y* as good as George A Green,
I shall make bold to turn agen ;
Nor am I doubtful of the issue
In a just quarrel and mine is so.

As for the history it self, its very easie to observe by its
phraseology and manner of writing, that 'tis not very
modern, but that the manuscript must at least have
been as old as the days of Queen Elizabeth. Its
lodged in a public library in the city of London,
from which a copy was taken, and is now made pub-
lick, with no other alteration, than such as were ne-
cessary to make the sense tolerably congruous.

158 PBETACE.

We do not pretend to vouch for the truth of this
history in every particular : it was the practice of the
times, upon such occasions as these, to imbellish truth
(as the writers imagined) with some of their inventions,
but it not being easie at such a distance nicely to dis-
tinguish the one from the other, we chose rather to
put it entire into the hands of the gentle reader, to
whose censure and determination we do wholly sub-
mit it.

However, to pleasure him so far as it lay in our
power, and to set Q-eorge forth in as conspicuous a
manner as the circumstances of things would admit :
we have added several cutts* to the Work, one of
which represents the Pindar's person, and the rest the
most memorable transactions of his life, especially his
Acts of Valour, wherein he excelled, and for which he
is justly celebrated to this day, and the publication '
of this his history is design'd for the perpetuating of
his fame to all future generations.

* These Cuts not being deemed sufficiently curious to warrant
their being re-engraved have been omitted, with this exception,
however, the whole of the manner and matter of the original
Edition have been observed. Ed,

THE

HISTOET OF GEOEGE A GEEEN,

PINDAE OF THE TOWN OF

WAKEFIELD, &c.

CHAPTEE I.

Of the Parentage and Birth of George A Green ; and of
some Accidents that happen* d to him in his Child-
hood, before he could hardly write Man, which gave
great hopes of his farther Strength and Valour,

That this history may gain the greater credit and
countenance, and not incur the imputation of a vain and
fabulous discourse (of which number this age hath al-
ready been abused with too many) I thought it the best
course, both for the reputation of the work, and the en-
couragement of the reader, to follow and observe an
exact computation of time ; as also, all the series of
such circumstances, as are not only known, but very
remarkable in our best and most approv'd chronicles.

Thus therefore it followeth :

The reign of Henry the Second of that name, king
of England, the son of Geoffrey Plantagenet, earl of
Anjou, and Maud the empress, daughter of Henry the
First, and younger son to William the Conqueror, began

160 THE HISTOEY OF

in the month of October, in the year after our blessed
Saviour's Incarnation, 1155, and in the nineteenth year
of Lewis the Eighth, king of France. He was a prince
of so great valour and courage, that he was often heard
to say, That the world was not sufficient to contain o r
limit a valiant and magnanimous spirit. Neither did
his words come much short of his heroical attempts, for
he subdued Ireland by the sword, and surpriz'd William
king of Scots, in battle, joining and annexing the king-
dom unto his own. He comprehended all the land and
continent from the south ocean to the north islands of
the Orcades, under due principality and government,
now spaciously extending his empires more than any
of his progenitors : for not any king of England before
his time held so many countries and provinces under
their dominion and government : for, besides his own
kingdom and crown, of which he was immediate and
apparent heir, and unto which he was lineally descend-
ed : he had under his rule and command, the entire
dukedoms of Normandy, Q-ascoigne and Guyenne,
Anjou and Chinon: besides, he subjected unto him
Auvergne ; with divers other lands and territories.
Moreover, by his wife Eleanor (who had been before
divorced from Lewis the Eighth, king of France) he had
in dower the Montes Pyrenaei, the Pyrenean mountains
that divide France and Spain. He had by this queen a
fair and hopeful issue, namely five sons and three daugh-
ters. His sons were William, Henry, Eichard, Godfrey,
and John, of which two only succeeded him in the

GEORGE A GREEN. 1Q1

kingdom, viz. the third son Richard (after for his invin-
cible courage surnamed Cuer de Lion) and John the
younger. The eldest of his daughters was called Maud,
who was married unto the duke of Saxony. The second*
Eleanor, espoused to the king of Spain. The third,
Jane, after wife to William, king of Sicily. This king
was very prosperous in the beginning of his reign, but
in the latter-end very unfortunate ; fo*, as Gerald the
chronicler recordeth of him, he reigned twenty-six years
in all worldly prosperity, and to the content of his
heart ; but the next four years with difficulty and
trouble, and the five years after that with infinite vexa-
tion and sorrow : but the first combustions that grew in
the kingdom, were about the twentieth year of his reign \
for his sons being aided by the Scotch king and the two
eminent earls of Chester and Lincoln : the cause of
taking up arms against their father was, because he had
imprison' d his Queen Eleanor, their mother, and kept
the fair Rosamond as a Concubine, quite abandoning
the bed and company of his lawful wife.

Thus far I have borrow'd of our English annals, the
better to illustrate our succeeding history now in hand.

In these eivH and domestick tumults, whilst the
whole land was in an uproar, the father against the son,
and the son oppos'd against the father, the whole land so
bewildred in the following and abetting of these two
several factions, was disjoin* d : not only peer against
peer, and county against county ; but, as in all such inv
natural and intestine wars it happens, so in this it fell
VOL. II. M

162 THE HISTOBY OF

out that the nephews oppos'd the uncles, brother the
brother, and the son the father ; the one supporting the
quarrel of the father, the other animating the faction of
the rebellious children, as their fancies and affections
dtversly led them. Amongst those that abetted the in-
surrection of the princes was one Geoffrey Green, a rich
and wealthy farmer of the town of Wakefield, who both
with his purse and person assisted them in all their de-
signs. These wars (as Beinolph witnesseth) lasted for
the space of two whole years, to the great disturbance
of the realm, at the end of which season the king had
the better ; for the army of the princes was dispers'd,
and the king pursuing his victory, besieged the two earls
of Chester and Lincoln, with other great men, in Au-
wich castle, and in a short space surpriz'd both it and
them. These being thus taken, and the princes his sons
fled, the king having quieted and pacified all the tumults
within the realm, had now leisure to make enquiry after

t

all such of his subjects, as, quite against their oath and
allegiance, had taken up rebellious arms against him.
In the list of those names was found this Geoffrey
Green, whose life being pardon' d by the king's gracious
\ clemency, yet, by a strict command from his highness,
directed to the commissioners, all his goods and lands
were seiz'd on as forefalt and confiscate to the crown ;
the grief whereof made such a deep impression on him,
that he survived not full two months after, leaving be-
hind him one only son, about the age of nine years, heir
only to his father's misfortunes ; for he had neither

GEORGE A GREEN. 163

bouse of his own to cover him, nor farm, nor cattle, nor
goods by which to subsist.

His name was G-eorge, and that very A Green of
whom our present discourse is form'd. And here I must
give you to understand, that he was not (as some vainly
have held) a foundling, that is, a forsaken infant, cast
out by his unnatural parents, and takon up in his swad-
dling-cloaths ; and that those charitable people that first
lighted on him, very much doubting of his baptism,
caused him to be christned, whence the name of George
was given him, and surnam'd of Green, of the town
which is called "Wakefield, on a green, and so brougbt
up and educated by the common charity. Neither was he
filius populi, a bastard, as some have ignominiously
suggested, designing thereby to sully his worth by the
infamy of his birth ; but he was the legitimate issue of
an honest and substantial farmer of good means and
ability, and of an unbtemish'd reputation, well thought
of by his neighbours, respectfully spoken of by the
country, a man free from blemish or unjust taxation,
until either over-soon reduced to embrace innovation,
or over-much inclining to the immature succession, he
fell into the fore-nam'd disaster. •

As I have clear' d his birth from bastardy, so my de-
sign is to free his bringing-up from calumny ; for,
according to the ability of his father, he was train' d up
in the school of Wakefield to read and to write ; for in
those days few farmers sons aim'd at any higher learn-
ing. Pregnant he was, and of a good capacity, but

164 THE HISTOKY OF

especially excelling in strength those that exceeded him
in years. He in all exercises of the body, especially
when any trial was to be made by blows and buffets,
had always the mastery, insomuch that his fellow scho-
lars gave him the name of captain of the school. His
means now failing, by reason of his father's poverty and
untimely decease, his master began to carry a more hard
and severe hand over him than before ; and because he
found him to be as friendless as fatherless, began too
much to insult on his poverty, by chastening and beat-
ing him on the least, or, perhaps, no occasion ; all which
his great spirit (tho' yet a child)being not able to endure
he purposed with himself, upon the next fit occasion, to
put some pretty revenge or other upon his master, and
so for ever after to quit the school. Opportunity being
after presented to his wishes, it happen' d, that his
master for some slight cause was wroth, calling him
Cocain, and bid him prepare himself for the lash, for he
must be whipp'd without all peradventures. George, at
this terrible summons, perceiving his master's threat-
nings, and the rod menacing, he falls down on his knees
with qusBSO preceptor (for he had so much Latin) in
his mouthfto beg pardon, as loth upon so sudden a
condemnation, to go to execution ; but after many
threats on the one side, and many . entreaties on the
other, and none present that durst interpose themselves
to mediate betwixt them, George perceiving his master
to be inexorable, and neither to be moved withprayera
nor tears, and remembring himself of his former deter-

GEOB&E JL GREEK. 165

initiation, whilst the pedagogue was calling out one to
horse him, George suddenly thrust his head betwixt his
master's legs, and holding them fast, and heaving with
all his strength, he found he could move his heels above
his own head ; so with a sudden heave he cast him off
from his shoulders with such a tumbling quait, as we
Call a back somerset, and left him (not much consider-
ing whether his head or neck came first to the ground)
lying flat upon his back, and half dead, in the midst of
the school, which then stood open, and out of which he
ran, with an intent and vow to himself never to come
within that place after. Thus George in the marring of
a scholar had almost spoil' d a schoolmaster ; for the
poor man, now not so cholerick as before, from threat-
ning, began to entreat his scholars for help to get him
upon his legs again, and employ' d others to run home,
to get him some aqua vit®, and others to lead him to
his seat, sometimes complaining of a pain in his head,
then of a creek in his neck, then of his back, and at
other times of his bones ; but his scholar G-eorge was
gone, and having made so bold with his legs, purposed
never more to come within his fingers. This accident
tho' it distasted some, yet it pleas' d others, especially
such as were indulgent over their children, to whom this
pedant had been too harsh and tyrannous ; but gave
occasion to all to speak George's strength and boldness,
who being so young, durst adventure to cope with this
tyrant, whose very looks made all the rest of his school-
fellows quake and tremble. Many other such masteries,

166 THE HISTORY OF

he proved with such as equall'd him in years, and many
with those that had out-gone him in time ; but in all his
exercises he still came off with the best success. He
was naturally of so honest a temper, and so gentle a
behaviour, that he rather attracted love and amity, than
emulation or enemies. But I have hitherto spoken of
him as a child ; I must now entreat you to imagine so
many years past over his head, till he was grown full
man, that his understanding, was of better capacity,
and his body of more able validity, the first to apprehend
the other to undertake. These things duly consider' d
here, I propose to conclude the first partition of this
treatise, and prepare myself to go on with the second.

CHAP. II.

How George A Green was pers waded by a friend of his
to go to an Astronomer, or Fortune-Teller, to cast
his nativity.

Geobge now growing to twenty years of age, and in
regardboth of his strength and stature, pers wading him-
self he might write full man, began to consider what
course of life he had best to take : and in this medita-
tion meeting with a friend of his, and of his long
acquaintance much familiar discourse was interchanged
betwixt them : at length they fell upon the former ar-
gument. To the profession of a soldier he had a very
great inclination, but he was frustrated in that ; for
there was no employment for such persons, be-

GEORGE A GEEEN. 167

Cause there was a general peace and a cessation of
civil arms throughout the kingdom. A serving man he
did not much affect, because he held it too servile a life :
and besides, he remembred himself of the two English
proverbs^ "That service was no herritage ;" and again,
" That an old serving-man made a young beggar." He
was in no hopes to prove a scholar, because (as you have
heard before) he had formerly too early broke up school.
A trade he did not affect, because he could not endure
to be imprison'd seven years in a shop to cry, What do
you lack ? Much conference to the former purpose
past betwixt them : at length his friend told him, That
some twelve miles distant from thence, at Hallifax,
lived a south-sayer, or fortune-teller, one that cast
figures, and could predict from mens nativities what
should happen to them : and so he wished him to be
advised by him, and accordingly as he should calculate
of his birth, so to frame the course of his life. His
friend so far prevail' d with him, that they purposed to
undertake this journey ; and the rather Q-eorge was
pers waded to the motion, because he had heard from the
mouths of others, that this man was a great artist, and
got much money by his practice. The time was ap-
pointed, and at that time they went ; but coming some-
what late into the town, they thought it not best to
trouble the artist that night, but rather to make proof
of him early in the morning fresh and fasting. Merrily
they supp'd together, with some good fellows of their
acquaintance, to whom they conceal'd the principal

168 THE HISTOEY 0*

cause of their coming to the town ; but got up betimes,
and understanding then, that ten groats was the ordinary
price due to the cunning man, George had the fee in his
hand ready for his counsel ; and being directed to his
house, it fortun'd thus : just at the same time he had
almost open'd the door, he found that some slovenly
fellow or other had laid a beastly and stinking load upon
the threshold ; at which sight the cunning man seem'd
tobe out of patience, and amongst other language utter' d
in his great fury as folio weth, and spoke to this effect :
Well i quoth he) if I could but imagine, or find out by
any enquiry what rascal hath put his nasty breech upon
me, I would be so revenged on him to make him an
example how to useany neighbour's door in that beastly
manner hereafter. This was no sooner spoke, but he
clapp'd too the door, and in he went ; when, saith his
friend, Come, George, let's follow in close, for 'tis ten
to one but we shall find him private. But he having
another apprehension newly come into his head, told his
friend, he should excuse him, for he was sorry he had
taken so much pains to so little purpose ; and though
he had made him such a fool to lose so much labour,
yet he had so much wit left him as to keep his money.
His friend demanding of him the reason why he utter' d
such speech; George reply' d, Because I purpose to be as
cunning as the cunning man, so as not to part with my
money for nothing; for (saith he) shall I ever believe
he can resolve me of things to come, that cannot inform
himself of a thing lately past : or that he can satisfie me

GEOBGE A GBEEK. 169

in the future course of my life and fortune, that cannot
give himself satisfaction who hath this morning play'd
the sloven upon his threshold P No, saith George, let
him keep his art unto his own use, and I will reserve my
money for my own spending: and so without any further
questions, he alter'dhis course back to Wakefield, where
he arriv'd something wiser than he went thither ; but
his friend, as arrant a fool as he was, got first thither.

CHAP. III.

How George A Green was chosen Pindar of the Town
of Wakefield : how he carried himself in the place ;
and of some other accidents that happened unto
him.
It happen' d, that soon after this his journey to Hallifax,
that the Pindar of the Town of Wakefield died, and
though the place was of no great reputation or credit,
yet it was of some profit ; and therefore divers of the
town, and others of the neighbouring villages made suit
for it ; but George, being well belov'd, partly for his
father's sake, but chiefly for his own temper and genteel
carriage, (being a town-born child, and destitute both of
means and employment) the most voices went, that
though he made no suit for it, either by his own mouth
or-the mediation of friends, that it should be mention* d
unto him, if he would think fit to accept of so poor a
favour, which proceeded from their general love, till a
better fortune ; and so was told, he should be possess' d

170 TUX HISTORY OF

of it, notwithstanding all competitors. George being
much pleased with such voluntary love, and being
naturally in himself a hater of all ingratitude, besides
that he was without a calling, and had no dependence
on any man, he revolved within himself, that it was
much better, and more commendable, to enter and
undertake a mean profession, than none at all, and
therefore he return' d the townsmen a thankful answer
of acceptance, modestly excusing his own demerit ; but
with this condition, that in regard he understood there
were many suiters for the place that seem'd more able
and expert than himself, and withal, that it was an office
that requir'd a strong and sufficient man, that must un-
dergo many enterprizes without being overtopt and
baffled. He, for his own part, desired rather that merit
might carry it than favour ; and therefore his request
was, that all such as had interested themselves in the
suit might appear next holiday, after even-song, upon
the green of the town, to have a bout or two at quarter-
staff, which was a weapon most in use in those days ;
and to take off all pretence for his being hated or envied
in it. The motion was so necessary and just that it could
be denied by none, but accepted of all, and he was much
commended for proposing it, and the rather, because
thereby the townsmen were acquitted from seeming in-
clin'd more to one party than another. Upon this the
day was appointed, and summons sent speedily, not only
to the neighbouring villages, but proclaim' d in all the
market towns in the county (without exception) that

GEOKGE A GBEEN. 171

whosoever would make their personal appearance, as
well strangers as others, should not only have fair ad-
mittance, but he that could maintain his claim by staff
and law, should not only have their general voice, but
have the possession of the Pindarship during his life,
Ac. When the time came, a great confluence of peo-
ple appear'd, for the country came in from all parts
and corners, and many champions entred within the
lists. Many a stout tinker in the country was seen with
his long staff upon his neck (for lances belong' d only to
horsemen) and not one but would venture his budget in
the quarrel. George was their champion and challenger;
the rest were defendants. The prize proposed for the
conqueror was the Pindarship. Neither bakers nor
butchers were exempted: nay, even fencers were not
excluded, for the challenge was general. Many that
made no pretensions to the place, came in for their re-
nown, and to shew their valour. The champion stands
forth, a defendant appears, the charge is given, not by
trumpets, but bag-pipes, as the seers-men go to war.
As one was struck down, another started up in his place.
I can compare George in this war most properly to Her-
cules fighting with Hydra ; for as one is vanquished,
there appears in his place two or three. Fewer staves
have been broken at a tilt on a coronation day, than
quarter staves at this trial of strength. Twenty of their
heads which stood right upon their shoulders, in less
than an hour's space stoop* d lower than their knees :
yet in him there was neither seen weakness nor weari-

172 THE HISTOHY OF

Hess, but he appear' d as fresh as when he first began
the encounter. Others, who came with a resolution to
make proof of their valour, learn' d by other mens
harms how to beware, and seeing so many able and
stout fellows foil'd, forbore to come into the lists : for,
seeing crack* d crowns pass so currant, they thought it
the safest way to sleep in a whole skin. In short, he
staid there so long to oppose, that none appear' d to
resist : so that the place (with the common consent of
the whole country) was conferr'd on him, which, they
all acknowledged, came to him not by favour, but his
merit and pure desert ; and as he attracted the hearts
of all men, so questionless his valour being accompany 'd
with his fair and genteel caariage, (as before hinted) in-
terested him in the bosoms of many women, especially
one fair damosel, whose name was Beatrice, the only
daughter and heir of a rich justice of the peace, whose
name was Chymes, a man of a fair revenue, and of no
mean reputation in the country ; who being the prime
beauty in all those northern parts, was soon espied by
George at such interims of breathing, wherein having
foil'd one champion, he cast his eyes about till he per-
cer/d another to appear before him. She perceiving
him at all opportunities to cast a loving look at her,
faiPd not to meet his eyes with the like interview of
amorous glances r and according to the proverb, " Who
ever lov'd that lov ? d not at first sight ?" So it may bs
said of George and Beatrice : for ever after that time
there was such an impression of cordial and entire love

GEORGE A GREEN. 173

betwixt them, as never could be raiz'd out by any pre-
vention or disaster whatsoever, as shall further appear
in the sequel. But here we shall leave our new made
Pindar, with a loud applause of all the lusty lads of the
town and country, carry' d home to his lodgings ; and
his sweet-heart attended by the country maidens (ac-
cording to her degree) unto her father's house, some
two miles off, who had rather (would modesty have
permitted her) have made a shorter journey of it, and
born him company that night in the town, as he would
likewise have been willing to have made a longer jour^
ney, and have usher' d her home ; but neither of these
could have their desire with any convenience. Part
they must, and part they did, meeting as near in their
thoughts, as they were divided far in their bodies, where
I must now likewise take leave of them for a little time,
to inform you what happen'd in the mean time in the
nation.

CHAPTER IV.

Of a great Insurrection in the Kingdom, made by the
Earl of Kendall, and his Accomplices, by Reason of
a vain Prophecy: and how Q-eorge A Green de-
meaned himself towards the Eebels, &c.

Richard the First, son of Henry the Second, after his.
father's decease, began his reign in the month of Ju^
in the year of grace, one thousand one hundred four-
score and nine, who having established and settled
Normandy, and ordered his affairs in England, after he

174 THE HISTOBY OF

had released his mother Eleanor from prison, whom the
king his father had kept long in durance, by reason that
she was the death of his best beloved Rosamond ; he
likewise conferred many honours on his younger brother
John, as giving him the provinces of Nottingham, De-
vonshire and Cornwall, and creating him earl of Lan-
caster, and moreover had marry'd him to the earl of
Gloucester's sole daughter, by which that earldom came
shortly into his hands. I say, Richard having settled his
affairs, he prepar'd for a voyage to the Holy Land, in
conjunction with Philip the Second, then king ofFrance.
During his absence he constituted the bishop of Ely,
then chancellor of England, vicegerent of the kingdom.
This bishop being on the one side covetous, and by
many unjust impositions oppressing the nation, and
the king's brother ambitious on the other, as presum-
ing much upon his royal birth, and his great possessions,
some persons fomented great factions and combinations
against the tyranizing prelate ; so that all things grew
out of frame and order ; and great distractions ensued ;
nay, a third ulcer, worse than the former, broke into
open rebellion, namely, an insurrection was raised by
the earl of Kendal, with divers of his adherents, as, the
Lord Bouteil, Sir G-ilbert Armestrong, and others,
These having gather' d an army of some twenty thou-
sand malecontents, made publick proclamation, that they
came into the field for no other cause, but to purchase
their country-mens liberty, and to free them from
the great and insufferable oppression which they then

GEORGE A GREEK. 175

liv'd under, by the prince and prelate. This drew
to the earl many followers for the present, so that
he seem'd to have got together a very potent army. But
the main reason of this rebellion was, that when the
earl was but a child, a wizard had prophesy'd of him,
That Richard and he should meet in London, and the
king should there Tail his bonnet unto him : and this
prediction of the south-sayer prov'd afterwards to be
true, but not as he vainly had expounded it. The earl
having led his army into the north, struck a great terror
into all those honest subjects, that tender* d their alle-
giance to their absent king and sovereign, and wish'd
well to the good of the commonwealth, and the safety of
the kingdom ; yet many were forced through fear to
supply his men with necessary provisions, lest otherwise
they should have made spoil and havock of all they had.
Now, the earl being for some time destitute of many
things that are useful and commodious for an army, and
encamping some five miles from the town of Wakefield,
the three confederates drew a commission, and having
sign'd it with their own seals sent it by one Mannering,
a servant of the earl's, to the bailiff and towns-men of
Wakefield, requiring seemingly, by way of intreaty, to
send unto his host such a quantity of provision, of corn
and cattle, with other necessaries (of which he was then
in great want,) and withal, such a sum of money as he
demanded for the payment of so many soldiers, to
which this Mannering was to perswade them by all fair
means possible : but, if they should deny his request, he

176 THE HISTOBY OF

was to threaten them with fire and sword, with all the
violence that could be suggested to them. The news of
this commission coming to their knowledge, the bailiff
sent abroad to the neighbouring justices, as, to Mr.
Grymes, and others ; so that he and his brethren ap-
pointed to give them a meeting in the town-house, where
many of the Commons were to be present, and, amongst
others, George A Green purposed to be there, to hear
what would become of the business. The summons
being made, the assembly met, and the messenger ap-
pear' d, show'd his warrant, and, according to his orders,
told them what great conveniences would grow in sup-
plying the army, and withal entreated from the lords
their love and favour. The bailiff and the justices were
loth, it being contrary to their allegiance, to grant their
request : yet they were fearful withal peremptorily to
deny it, and stood wavering long and debating amongst
themselves what they had best do for their own safeties ;
which Mannering seeing, without doing any reverence
at all unto the bench, he began to alter his phrases, and
changed the copy of his countenance, first taunting and
deriding their faint-hearted cowardize, and afterward
threatning them, that if they gave not present satisfac-
tion to his demand, the army would instantly remove,
makehavock and spoil of their goods and chattels, ravish
their daughters, and deflower their wives before their
faces, and make a bonfire of the town, to the terrifying
of others, whose insolence durst oppose the earl his
master's commission. At this haughty and insufferable

GEOBGE A GEEEN. 177

menaces, whilst the bench sate quaking, George presseth
forward in the face of the court, and desireth, by the
favour of the bench, to have the liberty, according to
his plain and weak understanding, to give the messenger
an answer, which being granted him, be boldly stept up
to him, and demanded his name, who made him answer,
that his name was Mannering. Mannering (saith he ;)
that name was ill bestow* d on one who can so forget all
manners, as to stand cover' d before a bench, upon which
the majesty of his sovereign was represented : which
manners (saith he) since thou wantest, I will teach thee :
and withal, first snatching his bonnet from his head,
trod upon it, then spurn' d it before him. At which the
other, being inraged, ask'd him, How he durst to offer
that violence to one, who brought bo strong a com-
mission ? Tour commission (saith George) I cry your
mercy, sir : and withal, desired the favour of the bench,
that he might have the liberty to peruse it, which being
granted, I marry (saith he, having read it) I cannot
chuse but submit my self to this authority : and making
an offer, as if he meant to kiss it, tore it in pieces.
Mannering seeing this, began to stamp, stare and swear ;
but George taking him fast by the collar, so shook him,
as if he had purposed to have made all his bones loose
in his skin, and drawing his dagger, and pointing it to
his bosom, told him, He had devised physick to purge
his cholerick blood ; and gathering up the three seals,
told him, It was these three pills which he must in-
stantly take and swallow, and never more expect to

VOL. II. N

178 THE HISTOEY OP

return to his master : nor did lie leave him, or take the
dagger from his hreast, till he had seen it down, and
afterwards, when he hadperceiv'd that they had almost
choak'd him, he calPd for a bottle of ale, and said these
words : It shall never be said, that a messenger shall be
sent by such great persons to the town of "Wakefield,
and that none would be so kind as to make him drink,
therefore here (saith he) Mannering, is a health to the
confusion of the traitor thy master, and all his rebellious
army, and pledge it me without evasion or delay, or I
vow by the allegiance which I owe to my prince and
sovereign, that thou hast drank thy last already.
Mannering, seeing there was no remedy, and feeling
the wax still sticking in his throat, drank it off super-
naculum; which the other seeing, JSTow (saith he)
commend me to thy master, and the rest, and tell them,
one George A Green, no better man than the Pindar of
the town of Wakefield, who tho' I have torn their com-
mission, yet I have sent them their seals safe back again
by their servant. "Whatsoever Mannering thought,
little was he heard to speak, but went away muttering
the devil's Pater Noster, and so left them. Every body
commended the resolution of George, and, by his sole
encouragement, purposed henceforward to oppose them-
selves against the insurrection of the rebels.

GEOBGE A GREEK. 179

CHAP. V.

How George wrote a letter to fair Beatrice, and of the
success thereof: how it was deliver' d to her; With
other accidents pertinent to the history.

The news of this late exploit done by the Pindar was
related at home by Justice Grymes to Beatrice, his fair
daughter, which he flourish' d over with such an extra-
ordinary commendation of his spirit and valour, that it
added fresh flames to the fire, which was already kin-
dled in her breast ; neither could any thing delight her
more, than to hear him commended much, and praised
often ; and nothing troubled her so much, as that mo-
desty would not suffer her to lay hold of an opportunity
to acquaint him with her affection, George, on the con-
trary was as much perplex' d with the consideration of the
difference of their births and estates; she an esquire's
daughter, and he but the son of a yeoman : Her father a
justice of the peace, his a farmer : she the heir to fair
estate, and he born to so mean a fortune : she so rich,
and he so poor. These discouragements drove him into
so deep a melancholy, that nothing could cheer and com-
fort him : But then, when he again consider'd with him-
self, that all vertuous lovers still respected the person
more than place, and still preferr'd the man above his
means ; and moreover, that he that fear'd not the face
of a man, should not be daunted at the frowns of a wo-

180 THE HISTORY O*

man; that faint heart never compass'd fair lady ; and,
that all contracts were first confirm* d in heayen be-
fore they could be concluded upon earth. Many of these
conceptions, I say, continuing, he begins to devise by
what means he might acquaint her with his affection ;
and knowing it was a commendable ambition, rather to
aim high than look low, and to raise his fortune than de-
press them, he thought to make proof, proposing to him-
self, that the worst that could befal him could not be
death, but the most a denial ; and having read, that it
is a kind of ingratitude for one to be angry or incensed
against any one for loving and honouring them,he there-
fore took pen in hand (as one loth to offend) and thought
cautiously rather to express his own passions, thanpre-
sumptuously to urge or perswade her affections (espe-
cially upon no acquaintance) and being a pretty poet,
such as those times afforded, he wrote this fancy.

What art thou, beauty, not commended?
Or what is state, if not attended?

Or gold in ground

If sought not found?

What's favour in a prince offended?
All like smoak and bubbles prove?
And so it happens to my love.

What are pleasures, if untry*d ?
Or what great suits, if deny'd?

Or what's to thee,

That cannot see?

GEORGE A GREEK. 181

Phoebus in his height of pride,

Fair may be, and yet we do annoy-
That hope, yet helpless tQ enjoy.

What wealth, unless we may possess it?
Or vertue, if none dare profess it?

Even so it fares

With these my cares.

Then what my mistress, who can guess it?
Save you that only know it:
I have a heart, but dare not owe it.

In discovering his meaningthus overtly, he was afraid
lest it might, perhaps, breed some distaste, yet it could
not beget any anger ; besides, if it came in question, he
might thus excuse it : Cats may look upon kings. The
air is free for all men to breath in : And, no man is
barr'd the privilege to gaze upon the sun, because it
shines freely upon all things. This might express he
lov'd her, which she could bar no man from doing, and
yet never be any injury unto her, and therefore he
could incur no just taxation. Being animated with
these hopes, he subscribed his name, seal'd it, and gave
it to his boy, giving him a great charge in the delivery,
and to watch some opportunity, when neither suspicious
ears or eyes were about her, to shelter it in her private
walk, or way, where she might be sure to find it, and
take it up. The boy proved an apt scholar, and did as
his master had tutor' d him : so good success he had,
that the letter came safely to her hands. Upon her

182 THE HISTOET OP

perusing it over and over, I may very well say, that
never came tidings unto her of more comfort, to her
(before) sad and discontented heart. And now all her
study and care was how to return him a pleasing and
sudden answer ; for well she consider' d, that in these
affairs there was no benefit in appearing coy, or delay-
ing of time, in regard she had many suiters propos'd
unto her father, of equal means and fortunes, who were
daily importunate for answer, and hourly solicited her
by letters, and to all which she gave fair answers and
seeming entertainment, but with a settled and constant
resolution to run her fortune with her best belov'd
George, and in this resolution she retired her self into
her chamber, and having shut the door, took pen, ink
and paper, and writ to him as followeth.

Prove but as constant as th'art bold,
Thy suit shall never be oontrouFd.
I am not to be bought or sold
For wealth or treasure.

Let suiters fret, and fathers rage,
Then keep me in an iron cage ;
Yet I myself to thee engage ;
111 use my Pleasure.

Then be no longer discontent :
I write no more than what is meant.
With this my hand my heart is sent.
Be't thine endeavour,

GEORGE A GBEEK. 183

To lay some plot how we may meet,
And lovingly each other greet
With amorous words and kisses sweet.
Thine for ever.

To this she subscribed her name, not standing to ex-
amine it, whether any thing had pass'd her hand rashly
or unadvisedly : so great was her love, and so much her
fear, either of discovery or prevention . She folded it up,
and wore it in her bosom, but destitute of any safe means
how it should be privately convey' d without any sus-
picion into his hands. In this distraction, walking one
morning at some distance from her father's house, she
espied William, the Pindar's boy, not far from the gate,
whom she presently knew to be the same who had
dropp'd the first letter, and iinagin'd, that his lingering
there was to find, if he could learn what success his
master's suit had : so that perceiving the coast clear,
and that no eyes were fix'd upon her, she let fall her
letter in the boy's sight, and, as if she had lost it by
chance, retired herself towards the house without any
notice thereof, or more speaking ; yet warily casting her
eye on one side, to see whether he took it up or no.
The lad, as crafty as she was cunning, took ft up, and
finding by the superscription, that it was not his mas-
ter's hand, was glad within himself, as hoping he should
now be the messenger of good news and tidings to his
master, he presently runs home with it : but never was
man more extacy'd than George? when he had open'd

184 THE HISTOET 01*

the letter and read it; in which profound fontemplation
I must leave him to speak of the Rebels, who hearing of
the fame of fair Beatrice's beauty, the sole clear and
refulgent star of the north, the earl, the Lord Bonvile,
and Sir Gilbert, commanding then the country, had left
the charge of the army to such as they best trusted,
and invited themselves to the House of Justice Grymes
who, tho* much against his will, was forced to give them
a seeming welcome, and liberty to court his daughter :
But she being constant in her former resolution, put
them off with slight answers, resolving within herself to
humour all, but to give satisfaction unto none of them.
Whilst they were thus revelling, Mannering, having
miss'd them in the army, brought to them that unpleas-
ing answer from the town of Wakefield, relating to them
every particular circumstance, and told how, not only
he, but even they themselves were baffled by a peasant,
one George A Green, who had not only torn their com-
mission, but made him swallow their Seals. ,r Ks no
wonder they were much incensed at this affront, in
regard it proceeded from a man of such low condition,
neither wanted they any thing in murmuring, by reason
of his former disgrace, to incite them to revenge. That
night they spent in feasting, and courting fair Bea-
trice, the earl promising to make her a countess at
least : but on the morrow they took their leave of Mr.
Grymes and his fair daughter, and coming to the army,
they began to lay their heads together to consult how
to take the Pindar, in whose only valour (by Manner-

GEOBGE A GREEN. 185

ing's Export) the whole might and strength of the town
consisted. Whilst these things were thus dehating, Sir
William Musgrave, a grave old knight, associated with
his son Cuddy Musgrave, a very valiant and succesful
gentleman, had raised a small power in the absent king's
behalf, who, tho' fewer in number, waited an opportu-
nity, upon the least advantage, to fall upon the rebels :
but they were so strongly encamp' d, that he could not
yet do it without great hazard to his person and people ;
in which distraction I must leave him for a while, to
speak of other adventures pertinent to the story.

CHAP. VI.

How George A Green surpriz'd a spy, who was sent by
the rebels to betray Sandon Castle, of which Sir
"William Musgrave and his son Cuddy had the keep-
ing ; and of sundry other passages.

Before what happen' d in Wakefield betwixt George
and Mannering, the Earl of Kendal had hired a spy,
and given him good store of money in his purse, to make
tryal if either by favour or reward he could corrupt any
man to betray Sandon Castle to him, in which the
Musgraves lay with a very small garrison, and had for-
tified it against any assault which could be made by the
rebels. This fellow strolling abroad, chanced to meet
with George, whom he knew not, or ever had seen be-
fore, and entring into discourse, George perceiving
that he was of the Baron's faction, sooth' d him up with

186 THE HISTORY OP

smooth language, and began to commend the enterprize,
as though it had a pretence of good to the kingdom and
liberty of the commonwealth, and screw' d himself first
so far into the other's bosom, as that he plainly told him
what his purpose was, and withal shew'd him gold very
plentiful, which he said, should be his that could devise
any plot to bring this stratagem to pass. The Pindar,
glad of this occasion, tells him, he would undertake for
such a sum to bring him safe into the castle, in the dead
of night, that he might at his pleasure set open the
gates, and let in as many of his confederates as he
pleased. G-eorge presently lays the plot, which was agreed
to by the other, and thus it was : I am very well known
to all that are in the castle, (says he) and am often sent
unto them to carry them provisions. Wow I would wish
you to enter it in the close of the evening. I will take
you on my back, (as if you were a burthen of corn, or
some other commodity, such as I usually bring thither)
and put you with in some corner of the castle that is
least suspected : Upon which, in the dead of night, when
you think all things very secure, you may get out, and
so opening the gates, let all your friends and accomplices
in. This was deliver' d with so sober and serious a coun-
tenance, that the sack was instantly provided, and he put
into it ; which was no sooner done, but George lifts it up
upon his shoulders, and nimBly carries Sir Troth in ken
of the castle, when taking a slering-cord out of his pocket,
with which he used to lead strays to the pound, fastned
it to the mouth of the sack, and coming to the tree just

GEORGE A GBEEN. , 187

before the castle-green, and hoisting him more than
twice his height from the ground, fasten' d the cord, and
leaving him betwixt heaven and earth tottering in the
air, bids him farewel, and at his parting left this in-
scription pinn'd upon his breast.

Whoever next shall pass this way,

A little I entreat to stay ;

And if he'll dain to look so high,

Hell see a most notorious spy.

This sack too I wou'd have you think,

More wholesome is to hang than drink;

Because in this a plot was laid,

By which you all had been betray'd.

Use him according to your skill,

Who sought this night your blood to spill,

If who did this you shall enquire,

'Twas George A Green did hang him there.

George having done this, trudg'd as fast as he could
towards the town, to look to his charge ; he was scarce
gone out of sight, when Sir William Musgrave and his
son Cuddy, walking about to take the evening air, Cud-
dy by chance casting his eye, espies this strange wonder,
and showing it to his father, they drew nearer to be
satisfied of the novelty, and having read the bill upon
his breast, they might easily perceive, as the proverb has
it, What Pig was in the Poke, and what commodity the
sack contain' d, when presently cutting him down, ~ with

188 THE HISTORY OF

such haste, that he had almost broke his neck with the
fall, they open'd the sack, and found the traitor ; upon
which they sent him to the castle, where they made
him confess all the purposes of the rebels, and at the
same time much commending George A Green for his
witty conceit, as also for his truth and fidelity to his
prince and sovereign. But now, for variety's sake, I
will break off this discourse, tho' somewhat abruptly,
and speak a word or two of Robin Hood, his maid
Mariana, and his bold yeoman, who at this time kept
revel rout, in the forest of Sheerwood, <fec.

CHAP. VII.

Of Robin Hood, Maid Mariana, and the bold Yeoman ;
and how envying the fame of George A Green, and
the rumour of the beauty of fair Beatrice, Mariana
conld not be in quiet, till it could be tried whether
Robin or George were the valientest, or she and
Beatrice the fairest.

My purpose is not to trouble the reader with any tedi-
ous discourse, by telling of you, how Robin Hood was
first earl of Huntington, and for his vertue suppress' d
and turn'd out of all his possessions by the covetous
bishop before spoken of, and the person whom the king
at his departure to prosecute the wars, had made gover-
nour of the kingdom ; nor how she that stiled herself
maid Mariana, was Matilda, daughter to the Lord Fitz-

GEORGE A GBEEN. 189

Walters, and having discovered the royal affections of
Prince John, retired herself into the forest of Sherwood,
for the true love and affection she bore unto her best
beloved Robin ; which history would require a small
volume of itself, but I only propose to speak so much
of them in brief, as is pertinent to the history now in
hand. I entreat you to take it into remembrance, that
G-eorge A Green for his strength and valour, and Bea-
trice, the daughter of Justice Grymes, for her beauty,
were the most famous in all those northern parts : that
Robin and his Mariana, before unparalleird, were now
scarce spoken of, insomuch, that an ambitious emula-
tion was the cause that Robin and George, Mariana
and Beatrice afterwards grew into great quarrel and
acquaintance, as shall be made more manifest by the
sequel. It was their custom still, when he and his yeo-
men went to the chase, that they all in their green,
being arm'd with good yew bows, and every one of them
a sheaf of arrows hanging at their girdles, came early
in the morning to the place where he lay, to call him
up, with a song to this purpose :

Now wend we together, my merry men all,

Unto the green wood side-a,
And there to kill a buck, or a doe,

Let your cunnings all be try'd-a.
. No man may compare with Robin Hood,

With Robin Hood's Slathbatch and John-a,
The like was never, nor never shall be,

In case that they were gone-a.

190 THE HISTOET OF

Then let us not linger away the time,
But hie to the merry green wood-a,
And there to strike down a buck or a doe, '
. For my master Robin Hood- a :
For my master Robin Hood-a.

"With this musick of well tun'd voices, it was their
custom to salute him, and after attend him to the game.
But it happen'd, that having had for the space of four
or five days together very rainy and tempestuous wea-
ther, Mariana all this time was in a deep and sudden
melancholy, the cause whereof he could by no means
wrest from her, though he had labour' d it by all fair
means and much entreaty ; insomuch, that he began to
be a little jealous of her love, as falling off from him,
and inclining to Prince John, who never left off solicit-
ing her by messengers and letters, with sundry gifts
and presents: but having had sufficient proof of her
faith and constancy, he then began again to blame and
chide his diffidence and mistrust, and attribute her sad-
ness and melancholy to the gloomy, unseasonable and
tempestuous weather, which might easily be the cause
of that her indisposition. To expel this (for nothing
could be more grievous unto him than to behold her
sad) he attiring one of his pages in the habit of a wood
nymph, and having provided a curious and costly man-
tle, wrought in divers colours, he by him presented it
unto her as she was sitting solitary, with great rever-
ence, with this song, a sweet and delicate consort
of musick being placed behind her unseen, who with
their soft strains thus began :

GEOEGE A. GEEEN. 101

Beauty's rose and vertue's look,
Angel's mind and mortal's book,
Both to men and angels dear.

Oh ! thou fairest on the earth,

Heaven did smile in jour first birth,
And since the days have been most clear.

Only poor St. Swithin now

Doth fear you blame his cloudy brow :

But that your saint devoutly swears,

It is but a tradition vain,

That his much weeping causeth rain:
For saints in heaven can shed no tears.

But this he says, that to the feast
Comes Iris an unwelcome guest,
In her moist robe of colours gay.
And when she comes, she ever stays
For the full space of forty days,
And, more or less, rains every day.

But this good saint, when once he knew
This rain was like to fall on you,
(If saints cou'd weep) he wept as much,
As when you did the lady lead,
That did on burning iron tread;
To virgins his respect is such.

He gently then bid Iris go

Unto th' Antipodes below;

But she for this more sullen grew.

192 THJJ HISTOBY OP

When he saw this with angry look,
From her this rainy robe he took,
Which here he doth present to you.

It's fit with yon it shou'd abide,

As men's great wonder, vertue's pride:

Yet if it rains still as before,

St. S within prays that you would guess,

That Iris doth more robes possess,
And that you wou'd blame him no more.

The song was no sooner ended, when that Robin ap-
pear' d, who in the stead of friendly thanks and cour-
teous salutation, now drew these words from her, " I
may wonder, sir, that you can be so stupid and gross to
sooth up your self, or to flatter me, to call me the pride
of nature and wonder of mankind, when both our lustres
are so suddenly eclipsed. Within these few months,
who so famous for magnanimity and valour as Robin
Hood ? And who more renowned for chastity and
beauty, than his Mariana ? who are now scarce thought
on, much less spoken of at all. Are not all the mouths
of the multitude only fill'd with the brave deeds, valiant
acts and exploits perfornTd by George A Green, the
famous Pindar of Wakefield ; and of the refulgent sun
of the north, fair Beatrice, daughter of old Grymes of
the north, and both preferr'd before an earl, and I the
daughter of an earl ; whereas the Pindar is but a Yeo-
man, and she the child of a mean gentleman ; and yet

GEOBGE A GBEEIT. 193

these two very far exceed us in the public voice of the
kingdom. Now, can you blame me to be struck into
this deep melancholy, hearing of them such loud accla-
mations abroad, and of ourselves scarce any rumour or
report at all ?" When she had thus freely utter' d her
thoughts, Robin on his part, commended her noble
emulation, and demanded of her what in this case was
fittest to be done. To whom she reply' d, ** That as two
suns could not shine in one element, neither could two
unparalleled beauties.be refulgent in one country,
without contending which should have the priority :"
then farther councelTd him, that for both their honours,
they should travel as far as Wakefield, where he should
try masteries with Gteorge which was the better man,
and she to show herself unto Beatrice, upon which true
judgment might pass which was the fairest woman.
Robin, than whom a more undaunted and bolder
spirit was not known to breath in that age, was not
a little pleased to hear, that that was the only cause of
her discontent, when taking her by the hand, and
raising her from the ground, he bad her be of good
chear, for before that month was expired she should
be lady of her wishes ; and having seal'd this with a
sweet kiss, he gave instantly order for his journey ;
but privately, lest being taken from his guard of
archers (he being outlaw' d) it might prove some dan-
ger to his person. He therefore selected out of the
rest only three of the stoutest amongst his crew,
namely, Slathbatch, Little John, and the Fryar, for

VOL. II. o

194 THE HISTOEY 01*

his attendants, and these were to have the charge of
his fair Mariana in the journey, in pursuing which I
leave them for the present, the success whereof you shall
have more at large hereafter.

CHAP. VIII.

How the Earl of Kendal and the Lord Bonvile laid an
ambush to betray George A Green, and the success
thereof: how he prevented the earl's policy, and
what happen' d thereupon.

As the name of G-eorge grew greater and greater, so the
displeasure of the rebels was increased against him more
and more, especially for those two merry affronts, the
one against Mannering, the other against their spy, of
whose surprizal they had lately got intelligence, and
therefore thought to defer their revenge no longer :
wherefore they having placed a strong ambush, thought
they had him fast : for the earl, Bonvile, and Mannering,
thinking to lay a bait for him, which he could not chuse
but be nibbling at, being well mounted, broke down a
strong fence, and put in their horses to feed in the corn .
George, whose careful eye was ever watchful over his
business, soon espied them, and call'd his boy, com-
manding him to drive them to the pound. These dis-
guised persons ask'd him what he meant to do with
their horses ? Whether he would steal them before
their faces ? and began to offer the lad violence ; which
George perceiving, and as yet not knowing them, said,

GEORGE A GREEN. 195

" It was base and discourteous in gentlemen, such as
they seem'd to be to do an injury in that nature, and
then to maintain it by being obstinate in it." To which
the earl answer' d, " That these belong' d to him, and
were put into the corn to feed in despight of him, or
who should say nay." The Pindar seeing no more to
appear, thought that their great words should not so
carry it away, and told them in plain terms what a forfeit
they had made, and what amends they should make,
or else as they rode on horse-back thither, they should
go on foot home ; and then he swore (by no be-garrs,)
but by the life of good king Richard, he would see it
perform'd. The earl hearing him name the king, toldhim,
" That he was but a base groom and peasant, and had
affronted one, that ere long would be king Richard's
better." The word was no sooner from his lips, but
G-eorge who could not endure such indignity breath'd
against his sovereign, struck him with his staff a sound
blow betwixt his neck and shoulders, telling him " that
he ly'd like a traitor, and he would make it good upon
his carcass." At which Mannering stepping forth told
him, " That he was a villain, and had struck an earl ;"
who answer'd him with a word and a blow, " That as
before he had unseal' d his commission, so now he would
sign him a pass-port into another world," and withal laid
him at his foot. The Lord Bonvile seeing this, gave
the watch-word to the men in ambush, which were
about some forty in number, who encompass' d him
round : which George seeing, he began to apprehend,
that whenever force was near the foil, the surest recourse

196 THE HISTOEY OP

was to policy, and thereupon craved a parley, which was
obtain'd, and G-eorge began as followeth : " I wonder,
sir, that you, being a nobleman, an earl, and, which is
more, the general of so puissant an army, will be so in-
jurious to your power, as to assault and circumvent a
poor single man, and of no renown and reputation, with
such unequal odds. What have I done more to your
person abusing my king, than you would have expected
from your peasant Mannering, if he had heard your
honour reviled and abused ? If you expect from him
the duty of a peasant, will you deny me, or blame me in
the same duty to my king ? Besides, my lord, if you
can make it appear, that your cause is just, and your
undertakings for the good and benefit of the com-
monwealth, I shall be glad to follow you, and to draw
my sword in your quarrel." He was about to pro-
ceed, when Bonvile taking the earl aside, persuaded
him to take his friendly offer, making no question,
but if they could insinuate him into their faction, he
might persuade others, but especially the town of
"Wakefield to come under their peaceable obedience.
This the earl approving, he spoke to him after this
manner : rt Thy submission and apology, which thou
hast so boldly utter' d, hath taken off my spleen, and
mediated with me for thy person and pardon: and
thereupon commanding his ambuscade to their camp,
he thus proceeded : " My rising in arms is to suppress
the insolencies of a proud prince and an insolent prelate*
who have much insulted on the privileges and liberties
of the commonwealth. For the common good I stand;

GE0BGE A GEEEN. 197

but the greatest inducement that drew me into this
cause was a wizard's infallible prophecy just at my
very birth, who thus calculated my nativity, That king
Richard and I should meet in London, and he vail his
bonnet to me." To whom the Pindar reply* d, st Ay
marry, my lord, you speak to the purpose, indeed, and
upon this encouragement I am willing to be but your
soldier and servant : but, my lord, might I humbly
presume to advise you, the better to justifie your pro-
ceedings, and for a more compleat notion of your affairs.
There is an old reverent man in a cave not far hence,
who is a great predicter, and was never known to fail in
that speculation. It were not amiss to take his advice
and see how nicely his calculation jumps with the for-
mer. Please you this night to take some simple provi-
sion, such as my poor cottage can afford ; my boy shall
lead you to his cave, where you may be satisfied of all
your doubts and difficulties.' ' The motion was accepted,
and concluded on. The morning was much long'd for,
and came. The Pindar had provided himself early, and
convey'd all things necessary for his purpose into the
place last nam'd. The boy conducted them thither,
where the Pindar having disguised himself like an old
Hermite, such as he had before describ'd, and counter-
feiting his voice, told them of all such things as they
had before related unto him, at which they wonder' d,
calling them particularly by their names, and discover'd
unto them the intent of their coming. But suddenly in
the midst of their discourse, he throws off his counter-

198 THE HISTORY OP

feit habit, and with his good staff, which never fail'd him
at his need, he so bestirr'd himself, that, after some
small resistance, having no hole to creep out at, and
being without their ambush, he first disarm' d them,
then seiz'd them as his prisoners ; and having provided
certain officers, with a strong guard, he sent them to
the House of Justice Grymes, by him to be safely con-
vey *d to London, to be disposed of by the king, who
was now return' d from the holy wars in Palestine.

CHAP. IX.

How George A Green, having seiz'd the arch-rebels,
plotted a means how to be possess' d of his most
beloved Beatrice, and what afterwards became of
Armstrong and the army.

As the Pindar was vigilant and careful for the honour
of the king, and the welfare of the pubHck, so he was
not altogether forgetful of his own private affairs, espe-
cially of that great affection which he bore to fair Bea-
trice, betwixt whom at all convenient opportunities
there had pass'd entertaining letters, she solemnly pro-
testing to him to let slip no occasion of freeing her self
from the close confinement of her father's house, and
to fly unto him as her only protection and sanctuary.
Hereupon he consider' d in some time a devise to ac-
complish it, viz. That his boy Willy should put himself
into the habit of a seamstress's maid, and furnishing
him with lace-bands, and other commodities belonging

GEORGE A GBEEN. 199

to the trade, he should with least suspicion get admit-
tance to her. Fortune so well favour'd the design, that
the boy came to shew his wares, when her father was
busied in receiving the earl of Kendal and his accom-
plices, which prevented a too curious enquiry about
the lad ; so that he was freely admitted to shew his
wares unto his daughter, who was then in her chamber.
He was no sooner entred, but shutting the door, he
disclosed himself, with the intent of his coming, namely,
that Beatrice should put her self into the habit of a
seamstress, and muffling her face, as if she had the tooth
ach (for in that posture the boy came in) and taking
her box and laces, should pass thro 9 the gates, leaving
the boy in her habit to answer her father, and to stand
the peril at all adventures. Q-lad was fair Beatrice of
the motion, and with as much speed as willingness put
off her own cloaths to put on the other's. "Willy was
as nimble as she, and was as soon ready to be taken for
Mrs. Beatrice, as she for a seamstress's servant ; so
that she easily, by holding her handkerchief before her
mouth, as troubled with a pain in the teeth, past thro.'
the people, and got out of the gates unquestion'd, where
we leave her on her way towards Wakefield, and Willy
in her chamber to answer her escape, and return to
Armstrong.

He, in the earl's absence, had the charge ojthe camp,
who thinking himself as secure as the earl had appear'd
to be negligent, was set upoii in the night by Sir Wil-
liam Musgrave and his son Cuddy, who took him when

200 THE HISTOEX OF

he was Careless and asleep, by which means they quite
discomfited the whole army, and young Cuddy fighting
with Armstrong, took him prisoner hand to hand.
Glad of such a present to welcome the king home from
the holy war, and with such progress, he made prepara-
tions to hasten with him to London, and to present
him as a pattern of his prowess.

In the interim, to return again to Justice Grymes,
the greatest part of his business being over, he stole
privately to see his daughter, in her chamber ; but find-
ing another maid, as he thought, sit sleeping in her
habit, he espied a face with which he had not been ac-
quainted ; and thereupon he grew first into amazement,
and afterwards, fearing what he suspected to be true,
he demanded of the boy Willy, first, what she was ?
Then, how she came thither ? Who, with a demure
countenance, answer* d, " she was a poor gentlewoman,
and came thither upon her legs." Grymes then roughly
ask'd him, what was become of his daughter ? " Truly,
sir, that seamstress's habit which well becomes your
daughter hath been the means to convey her abroad ;
but lest her chamber should be found empty, she left
me here as a pawn till her return." The justice was
still more and more enraged, threatning with all man-
ner of threats to use all the rigour that the law could
possibly afford towards punishing him, without he told
him the truth.

But before this matter could be fully ended betwixt
the justice and Willy, he was call'd down again about

GEOBGE A GREEW. ^ 201

his commonwealth business, which was instantly to be
dispatch* d out of hand ; yet still this young impostor
run in Grymes's mind, and had too great an impression
upon his affections, therefore he lock'd her in his cham-
ber, and took the key along with him, with this resolu-
tion, that if by her means he had lost a daughter, (he
being a widower) if she could give a good account of
her birth and means, she should make him a wife.
These and the like meditations somewhat moderated his
choler for the present, therefore he made what expedi-
tion he could to dispatch off his prisoners, that he might
have a more speedy visit in her quarters. But I must
leave them there, to return to Robin Hood and his fair
Mariana, who had now by thistime overcomethe greatest
part of their journey, and shew what happen' d to them
at their meeting with the Pindar and his Beatrice.

CHAP. X.

Of that which happen'd between Robin Hood and his
Mariana, and George A Green and his Beatrice ; and
how their great animosity was at length reconciled,
and of other pertinent accidents.

The great joy at the meeting of George and his Beatrice
was unspeakable, and the rather, because so unexpected.
But as there is no day so clear, but there will appear
some clouds to eclipse the beauty of the sky, so in their
great alacrity and abundance of present content, there
was one thing that appear' d troublesome and grievous
unto thein, namely, the danger Willy had incurr'd for

202 THE HISTOBY OF

their sakes. There was no sudden remedy could be
used, and so their fears continued, lest the justice, ill
inclined and deluded, should use him with the utmost
and uncommon rigour and violence. To divert this me-
lancholy, and also to devise the most safe course for his
delivery, G-eorge one evening took Beatrice by the arm,
and willing to shew her the pleasant and delightful
fields full of green corn, and that she might take the be-
nefit of the fresh and wholesome air, when on a sudden
they espied a company of rude and irregular fellows,
(as they thought) break a wide gap thro' an hedge, pluck
up the stakes, and without making choice of any path,
tread down the corn and make towards them. This
injury George's great spirit being not able to suffer, he
made as much haste to meet them as he could, tho'
Beatrice by many entreaties would have held him back :
but the nature of so wilful a wrong prevailing above her
entreaties, or the care of his own safety, he took his
staff from his neck and bad them stand, and not only to
give him an account, but present satisfaction and recom-
pence for the damage they had done. Eobin and his
company had put off their forest green, and left their
bows and arrows behind, and had only weapon' d them-
selves with good strong quarter-staves, according to
the fashion of the country, who appearing to take the
Pindar's affront in great scorn, told him - , all ways
were alike to them, they being travellers ; and when
they could make the next way, they saw no reason
they had to go about : they had done no damage, or
if they had done any, the amends lay in his own hands.

GEOBGE A GliEEK. 203

" Marry, andso it doth," answer' d the Pindar, " forlhave
that in my hand, that shall call you to a dear reckoning ;
but since you seem to be men furnish'd both with limbs
and spirit, if you be such, and not base and effoeininate
cowards, come not all upon me at once, but one by one,
and then have at you, if you were twice as many more ;"
and the motion pleased them. Slathbatch entreated to
be the first, and was the first that was laid at his
master's feet. Little John would needs revenge his
friend and fellow's quarrel, but dipt his finger in the
same sauce. At this Beatrice encouraged, began to
laugh ; but Mariana, who had all this while observ'd
her, did nothing but fret and vex. In the mean time,
the fryar had buckled himself up for the third encoun-
terer ; but G-eorge perceiving him to be a churchman
by his shaven crown, would have refused him, but the
nimble fryar would needs have a bout with G-eorge, who
answer' d, that since he begg'd a cudgelling at his
hands, he was bound in conscience to deny the church
nothing, and he would give it him surely ; for the fryar
was laid soon sprawling on G-od's earth. Still Beatrice
smiled, and still Mariana fretted ; and whilst Eobin and
George were preparing for the combat, for Eobin was
willing to give him liberty to breath, Mariana stept to
Beatrice, and cali'd her, Proud minx, and bid her now
turn her laughter into tears, for she had a companion
coming, who would not only revenge his friends, that
were disgraced, but beat, baffle, and disarm her lubberly
sweet-beart. Beatrice, who was of an high spirit, aDd

204 THE HISTOET OP

the more embolden'd by the present valour of her
George, came up close to her, and told her again, " thou
shalt find as much difference betwixt my champion and
thine in manhood, as betwixt the true and natural
colour in my cheeks, and thy painted and plaister'd
beauty, dawb'd upon in wearing." These words were
enough to begin new wars, and they were going together
by the ears at the instant, and much ado had the fryar
and the rest (now recovered) to keep them asunder. But
the two virgins, who would have been actors themselves,
were now forced to be spectators of one of the bravest
combates, that (I dare say) was ever fought in Wake-
field. Long it lasted, and with great difficulty they
contested which should be victor : at length, both being
tired and weary, (saith Robin) " Hold thy hand, noble
Pindar, for I protest thou art the stoutest man that I
ever yet laid my hand on." To whom the Pindar reply'd,
" Eecal thy words, for thou never yet laid thy hand on
me." Robin reply'd, u Nor will I, noble G-eorge, but in
courtesie. Know then, I am Robin Hood, this is my
Mariana, and these my bold yeomen, who are come as
far as the forest of Sheerwood only to prove thy valour,
and to be spectators of Beatrice's beauty, both which* I
have found to exceed that liberal report which fame
hath given out of them." At which words the Pindar
embraced him, and told him, " that, next to King
Richard, he was the man he most honour' d, and craved
pardon of Matilda, otherwise call'd maid Mariana." He
caused Beatrice to submit her self unto her on her

GEORGE A GREEN. 205

knees, to which she willingly assented ; but the sweet
lady would by no means suffer her, but lovingly kiss'd
and embraced her, who confess'd, that she could not
have thought that the north country could have bred
such a beauty. Much joy there was on all sides : so
George invited both of them and their friends to an en-
tertainment, wherein he shew'd himself to be as boun-
tiful in mind, as he was famous in the strength of his
body ; for their welcome and chear was much above
their expectation, as better suiting with a large man-
nor-house, than a thatch* d cottage. Nor did Robin
come altogether unprovided from Sheerwood ; for he
had both money and divers heiffers laden with provisions
of all sorts, which follow* d him on purpose to feast and
revel with the Pindar, where I leave them in all the
content and felicity that may be, and proceed to King
Richard upon his new welcome from his wars in Pa-
lestine.

CHAP. XL

How King Richard, after his Return, by reason of
many Complaints made unto him, order'd those
Abuses, which in his Absence had been committed
by the Prince and Bishop, to be redress' d : How
the Rebels were presented unto him, and his Dispos-
ing of them ; and how G-eorge A Green was reported
of to the King.

Richard, the first of that name, for his great hardiness
and magnanimity surnam'd Cuer de Lion, king of

206 THE HISTORY OP

England, after some years spent in the holy wars, was
received into the kingdom with much joy and solemnity,
which was no sooner past over, but divers complaints
petition- wise, were deliver' d unto him concerning sun-
dry oppressions made by the ambitious bishop, andin-
solencies committed by the prince, which, by the advice
of his council, he studied how to reform. Those being
brought to some reasonable effect, he then began to
"consider of fresh forces to be suddenly raised towards
the suppression of those rebels in the north. In the
middle of these considerations, there arriv'd at London
young Cuddy Musgrave, with Sir Gilbert Armstrong,
and presented him a prisoner to the king, telling the
manner of his surprizal, and how the grand army was
defeated, which was much further' d by the means of
one George A Green, Pindar of the town of Wakefield,
who by taking a spy of their's, and hanging him up be-
fore the gate of Sandon castle, they thereby discover' d
the strength of the rebels, and learn' d how and when to
take them careless and unprovided, which was the oc-
casion of so famous and fortunate a victory. The king
had scarce leisure to commend their care and diligence,
but Justice Grymes likewise, before the king could
make sufficient enquiry what became of the others, who
were the chief of the rebellion, came and presented, as
from George A Green, the Earl of Kendal, the Lord
Bonvile, and Mannering ; representing it with such an
exact testimony of the Pindar's valour (as relating from
the beginning all such remarkable things as are spoken

GEORGE A GREEN. 207

of him in this history) that his majesty made open pro-
testations, that he was glad to have so good and valiant
a subject, when turning towards the earl of Kendal, the
king in meer derision vaiTd his bonnet to hjm, and said
withal, " My lord, you are welcome to London. I did
not think at my departure you and I should have seen
one another here upon these terms." At which saluta-
tion the earl, remem bring the former prophecy, cursed
the wizzard, whose vain and idle prediction had been the
occasion of his ruine and downfaL In short, the rebels
were all committed to the tower, there to remain till
their further trial. This done, the king enquiring
further of the Pindar, and finding more and more to be
spoken in his commendation, purposed to disguise him-
self, and, with the earl of Leicester only, who had been
a co-partner with him in his wars, and Cuddy Musgrave
for their guide and conductor, to travel into the north,
to take a view not only of this so famous yeoman, but
to listen withal how he was beloved in those parts, and
his government beliked of. In this interim of time,
whilst the king was preparing himself and the rest for
the journey, Justice Grymes being discharged of his
prisoners, and having leave to depart into the country,
•with great thanks from the king for his late great care,
he long'd to be at home to take a better view of that
supposed girl, who was left, as it were, as a pawn for
his daughter. Great charge he had given, that she
should be safely kept and well attended, but to trust
her no further than her chamber, till he himself came to

208 THE HISTORY OF

take her to a further examination, which, by reason of
his former pressing business, he had not leisure to do.
We may suppose him now on his way towards the
country, whither the king himself intended his private
progress.

We must now look back again to Robert, earl of
Huntington, and Matilda, otherwise call'd Robin Hood
and maid Mariana, whom we left feasting with George
A Green and his sweet Beatrice, who, besides their
courteous entertainment, was willing to shew his guests
all the sports and merry passages of the country.

CHAP. XII.

Of the Town of Merry Bradstead, and a Custom
therein, called Trail-Staff, observed by the Shooe-
Makers, otherwise called, The Gentle Craft. How
the King, Leicester, and Cuddy past through this
Town, and of their meeting with Robin Hood, and
George A Green, and what further happen'd.

Theee is a town not far from Wakefield, which is called
Bradstead, where the shooe-makers, by long tradition,
have observ'd a custom, that no person shall walk thro'
the town with his staff upon his shoulders, unless he
will have a bout or two with some one or other of the
gentle craft : but if he trail' d it after him, he might pass
peaceably without any trouble or molestation ; for there
was none would say so much as, black was his eye. It
so happen'd, that the king's way, with Leicester's and

GEORGE i. GREEN. 209

Cuddy's, happen'd to lie thro' this town, who being
disguised like country yeomen, and it seems not
well acquainted with the custom, like honest plain
travellers, (as the use was then) waited boldly with
their staves upon their necks ; which being espied by
the trade of shooe-makers, three stout fellows of
them, with every one a good staff in his hand stepp'd
out of their shops, and beat their' s from their shoulders.
The king having had genteel entertainment in all other
places, wonder' d at such rudeness, and gently demanded
of them the reason of that violence then offer' d them.
They answer' d him again > " that it was a privilege they
had, which they had observed time out of mind. Their
fathers had kept it, and they would leave it hereditary
to their successors." They demanded of them, whether
they had any such patent from the king, who answer' d
again, " they did not stand upon patents, neither knew
they any law for it, saving staff-ends-law ; and that all
their fraternity were ready to maintain it with down-
right blows, and therefore bid them peremptorily to
handle their staves for there was no other way to save
them from a present and sower banging." The king
told them, " they were peaceable men, and rather than
to break their custom, or to enter into unnecessary quar-
rel, they would drag their staves after them," and so did*
Whilst these things were debating, came George A
Green disguised, with Eobin Hood and his yeomen,
with every one a good bat on his neck. George having
told Eobin what mad merry custom the jolly shoemakers

VOL. II. p

210 SHE HISTORY OF

maintained, and bringing him tbat way on purpose only
for sport's sake, and to try what mettle they had in
them, espies the king, Leicester and Cuddy to trail
their staves after them ; at which sight being moved,
" See, Eobin, (saith he) three lusty, able, proper fellows,
that dare not advance their staves for fear of the shoe-
makers." Then asking Eobin Hood, what he thought
of them P He answer' d, " That he took them to be base
cowardly fellows, and that it was pity such goodly
shapes should cover such timorous and degenerate
spirits, very cowards." So, saith George, I'll presently
correct them, and coming up close to them, he first
began to upbraid them with their fear and cowardize,
and afterwards concluded, that if they did not presently
raise their staves, and bear them up, maugre any that
durst to interpose, he himself would cudgel them more
soundly, than the townsmen were able to do: Had
they express' d themselves to be valiant men, they
should have been excused. The king answer'd, " I was
never put to so hard a choice, as to be beaten, fight or
fight not :" and so desired to be excused, since they were
travellers, men of peace, and altogether unacquainted
with any such hard customs. His words were scarce
ended, when out came a crew of shoe-makers, every
man well appointed, and told them, that even they
should obey their custom, bid them down with
their may-poles, and withal began to strike their staves
from their necks. That was the watch-word which the
Pindar and his comrades look'd for, and now began the
greatest combat that was ever seen in the street of Brad-

GEOBGE A GREEtf. 211

stead : for Bobin and George began to clear the whole
street before them, insomuch that all the town rose,
masters, apprentices and journey-men : not a staff to bo
found, that was not used in defence of their liberty.
There was nothing now thought on but havock and
pall mall ; the Pindar himself seem'd to be pounded in
amongst them, and many a shoe-maker was brought to
his last, and many a staff was shiver* d, and made
skewers : crack' d crowns went current, tho' many were
found to take them against their wills : the shooe-makers
themselves thought fit to give ground, who had vow'd
to lose bodies and souls in the quarrel, and run to
shelter themselves most shamefully. This put the king
and Leicester in mind of the great conflicts betwixt
them and the infidels ; for even here no christian could
find favour or mercy during this battle, and the victory
was still doubtful ; for what the gentle craft wanted in
strength, they had in number ; yet neither party were
heard to sound a retreat, till at length the Pindar's dis-
guise falling off hi the battle, he was no sooner dis-
cover' d and known, but the shoe-makers ery'd, Trail ;
they flung down their staves, and cast up their caps, and
bid them welcome to the merry town of Bradstead with
a loud shout. No man thought more of his hurt, for
the joy they had to see the Pindar ; for as the Trojans
thought such more honour'd than harm'd that were hurt
by the hand of Achilles, so amongst them it was held
rather a dignity than a disparagement to wear any
honourable scar made by the hand ofthePindar. George

212 THE HIST0BY OF

having breathed himself a little, thank'd them for their
lives, and presently commanded a barrel of the best and
strongest ale should be brought and set in the streets,
which was instantly done and paid for. Then George
entreating them, as they tender'd him, to bid his friends
welcome, they then came about him like gnats : but
when G-eorge had told them who they were, namely,
Robin Hood and his bold yeomen, who had travell'd as
far as from the forest of Sheerwood to prove what met-
tle was in their fraternity, this was as good as a plaister
to every man's broken head; for, with a joint acclama-
tion, they gave them a loud and hearty welcome.
All this the king observing, and perceiving, the
two prime men to be there present whom he had such
a great desire to see, call'd to Cuddy, and bid him
provide him the royal habit, which he had caused to be
brought, in case of any needful occasion. In the mean
time, the champions being all placed in the midst of the
street, and beleagured on all sides, the Pindar call'd
for a deep wayssel-bowl, and filling it brime full, and
falling down upon his knees, all the rest doing the like,
he said, " Here, Robin Hood, I drink an health, to good
king Richard, and thou being the best man in the com-
pany, shalt first pledge it. That done, let it go round
amongst the shooe-makers :" but casting his eye aside,
continued, " only I except from this health those cow-
ardly travellers, who are unworthy to drink so brave
and valiant a prince's health, who for fear durst not
carry their staves upon their shoulders." Off went

GEORGE A GREEK. 213

the health with a great shout, and was fill'd for
Robin, which he had no sooner drunk, but the king
casting a princely mantle about himself, and Leicester
and Cuddy plucking off their disguised habits, stept in
amongst them, and said, " Nay, Eobin Hood, tho' you
were of late held to be the best man in the company,
yet, by the Pindar's good leave, give king Eichard li-
cence to be the third man at least to drink his own
health." These words, graced with his majestical habit
and countenance, much astonish' d them on a sudden,
but especially the shoo-makers, who made no question,
than that they were all no better than food for the gal-
lows. But at length the Pindar (whom nothing, Bave
so great a majesty, was able to daunt) recollecting him-
self, most humbly submitted unto the king, desiring
his grace and pardon for those vile and rude insolencies
committed against his sacred majesty ; whom the king
as graciously pardon' d, and taking Robin Hood from
his knees, saluted him by the name of Robert, Earl of
Huntingdon, assuring him, upon his kingly promise, all
his lands and revenues, injurious seiz'd and extorted
from him by the Bishop of Ely and Prince John, should
be roster' d unto him ; and that his Matilda, daughter
to the Earl of Eitz- Walters, should be conferr'd upon
him, maugre those indirect means by which the prince
his brother had insidiated her honour. This news of
the king was presently spread abroad into the country.
Amongst other homages, the king call'd for George A
Green, and bid him kneel down, because that, for his

Z14 tbx history or

great services done to the state, his purpose was to
honour him with the style of knighthood; bat he
humbly besought his majesty, that he might not exceed
the title of his father, who uVd and died only a poor
yeoman in the country : that his service, how mean
soever, did shew better in that humble and mean state
in which he lived, than if he were burthen' d with the
greatest titles of honour. In this interim, the shooe-
makers had retired themselves to consult how to ap-
pease the king's anger, who they made no question was
moat grievously incensed against them ; when Marians
and Beatrice came and submitted themselves upon their
knees, the one presenting unto his majesty a rich belt,
wrought with her own hands for her Bobin ; the other
a curious scarf, beseeching his majesty to accept of
them, not according to their worth, but their tender of
good will and loyal meaning towards his sacred person.
The king wondering what those choice beauties should
he, and being resolved, most graciously accepted of their
presents, took them from their knees, and lovingly em-
braced them, giving them thanks for their fine presents
which he promised should be bountifully remembred.
Sow enters Grymes, bringing in Willy, the Pindar's
boy, and first desires justice of the king against George
for stealing away his daughter ; and that if it were so,
that the matter was so far past, that he must needs
enjoy her, that it would please his msjesty that she who
was left in her place should be at his free disposal.
TKt king granted both, and first having in his princely

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TOM A LINCOLNE.

TOM A LINCOLNE.

The History of Tom a Lincolne, the Bed Rose
Knight, is one of the numerous productions of
Bichard Johnson, the author of that very popular
Romance The Seven Champions of Christendom?
which was said by Ritson to contain " all the lyes of
Christendom in one lye;" and like that favourite
volume of his contemporaries, contains abundant

* ' The Famous Historie of the Seven Champions qf Christendoms,'
the work by which our author is best known, is mentioned (as we
learn from the Rev. A. Dyce's note to Kemp's Nine Dates Wonder)
in the Stationers' Books as early as 20th April 1596, when * John
Danter Entred for his Copie under thande of the Wardens, a booke
intituled, The famous Hystory of the Seven Champions of Chris-
tiandome, St. George of England, St. Dennys of Fraunce, St. James
of Spayne, St Anthony of Italy, St. Andreweof Scotland, St. Fa-
trick of Irland, and St. David of Wales, vid.'; and on the 6th Sept.
following, " Cuthbert Burby Entred for his Copie by Assignments
from John Danter, Twoo bookes, viz. the first pte and second pte
of the vii Champions of Christiandom, Beservinge the* work-
manshipe of the printinge at all tymes to the said Jo. Danter
vijd." No copy of this edition is known I believe at the present
time. But it is alluded to by Bishop Hall in his Satires published
in 1597: "St. George's Sorrell & his cross of blood;"— and by
Meres in his Palladia Tamia } or Wits Treasury, published in the
following year.

220 PBEFACE.

evidence of the writer's intimate knowledge of the
old Romances of Chivalry ; for a cursory perusal will
suffice to show that his claims to originality are but
limited, his incidents being principally copied from
the Metrical Bomances of former ages, and his style
from that of Lylie's Euphues :

Talking of stones, stars, planets, fishes, flies,
Playing with words, and idle similies.

If it were necessary to adduce more direct proof
of the author's acquaintance with the earlier Bomances,
than the general character of the incidents introduced
into his performance, (and which are literally old
friends with new faces, being only the favourite and
well established adventures of Knighthood, rendered
once more interesting by a novel mode of relating
them) it would be found in his having conferred upon
the Eed Sose Knight the especial favour of the Fairy
Queen, when a storm had driven him to the
" Lande of Faerie," the Elysium of the Middle Age
Bomances:

" Here is the quene of Faerie
With harp and pipe and simphonie
Dwelling in this place."

And in the manner in which " fair Anglitora with her
own hands" washed the body of the "Knight, which is

PBEFACE. 221

evidently copied from the Mort a* Arthur (Book viii.
cap. 9.) in which Sir Tristram is put in the ward and
keeping of La belle Isoud King Anguishes daughter^
" because she was a noble surgion." And Bit Tris-
tram, like the present worthy, requited her kindness
with his love. Her namesake, Iseult aux blanches
mains, was equally expert and successful.

The Great Bell at Lincoln, which our hero is said
to have sent to that city, and to have called after his
name, (though without doubt his name was selected
from the popularity which Great Tom already en-
joyed,) hangs in the north steeple of the Cathedral,
called St. Mary's Steeple, and is thus described in
the History of Lincoln, 8vo. 1816. p. 74 1 — the
passage in inverted commas is from Don Espriella's
(Mr. Southey) Letters :

" "We ascended one of the other towers afterwards
to see Great Torn, the largest bell in England. At
first it disappointed me, but the disappointment wore
off, and we became satisfied that it was as great a
thing as it was said to be. A tall man might stand
in it upright; the mouth measures one and twenty
English feet in circumference, and it would be a
large tree of which the girth equalled the size of its
middle. The hours are struck upon it with a ham-
mer. I should tell you that the method of sounding

222 PBEFACE.

bells in England is not by striking, but by swinging
them ; no bell, however, which approaches nearly to
the size of this is ever moved, except this; it is
swung on Whitsunday, and when the Judges arrive
to try prisoners — another fit occasion would be at
executions, to which it would give great solemnity,
for the sound is heard far and wide over the Fens.
On other occasions it was disused, because it shook
the tower, but the stones have now been secured with
iron cramps. Tom seems to be the only name which
they give to a bell in this country."

Bound the crown thereof is this inscription,

SPIRITUS SANCTUS A PATRE ET FILIO PROCE-
DENS SUAVITER SONANS AD SALUTEM, ANNO
DOMINI, 1610, DECEMBRIS 3, REGNI JACOBI,
ANGUE 8°, ET SCOTTE, 44°.

And round the skirt is the following,

LAVRENTIVS STANTON, DECANVS, ROGERVS
PARKER, PRECENTOR, ET MAGISTER FABRICIE,
GEORGIVS ELAND, CANCELLARIVS, ET MAGIS-
TER FABRICIE. RICHARDVS CLAYTON, ARCHI-
DIACONUS, LINCOLN.

The weight of this surprising bell is nine thou-
sand eight hundred and ninety-four pounds.

It has been gauged, and will hold four hundred
and twenty-four gallons, ale measure. The compass

PEEFi.CE. 223

of its mouth is about seven yards and a half, and
two inches.*

Great Tom of Lincoln has never travelled beyond
the precincts of his own church, but was manufac-
tured on the spot ; for which purpose a furnace was
erected in the minster yard in the year 1610; from
which he was cast by Henry Holdfield, of Notting-
ham, and "William Newcomb, of Leicester, bell-
founders, and partners in this concern only; which
connection arose from the former being a man of the
first eminence in his profession, and to whom such a
charge could with safety be committed, and the latter
living within the diocese ; for the honour of which it
was deemed necessary he should have some concern
in the business.

In the Historical Account of Lincoln Cathedral,
8vo. 1771, we have some account of Great Tom's
predecessor.

The weight of the old bell, before the present was
cast, was seven thousand eight hundred and seven
pounds, at one hundred and twelve pounds per hun-
dred. The weight of the present is nine thousand
eight hundred and ninety-four, at one hundred and
twelve pounds per hundred; added, two thousand
and eighty-seven pounds.

* Don Espriella's statement of the circumference is not
correct.

224 PREFACE.

The motives which induced our author to select
so popular a title for his hero, probably guided him
in his selection of a father-in-law, and accordingly
the daughter of Prester John is won by him, and
becomes his wife.

Many particulars respecting this celebrated per-
sonage are to be found in Todd's Illustrations to
Gower and Chaucer, p. 365, et seq. where it is said
he was " no doubt, commended to public notice more
powerfully in Chaucer's time, on the return of Sir
John Mandeville from his marvellous voyages and
travels." This narrative (which has been often
printed) contains two chapters respecting Prester
John's domains, character, Ac. see ch. lravi. ; and
Mr. "Weber, Metrical Roman, vol. iii. p. 302, quotes
from a MS. Mandeville, in the Advocates' Library,
Edinburgh, the following account of his having obtained
the appellation of Prester John.

"There was sumtyme an emperour that was a
noble man and a dowty. And he hade many Cristen
kynges vnder him. And the emperour thought that
he wold se the maner of Cristen men seruyse in holy
chyrch. And than wer chyrches in all the cuntres, in
Torky, Surrye, Tartari, Jerusalem, Palastari, Arabi,
and Harrape, and all the lond of Egypt ; and all the
londes were that time Cresten. And yt was on a

PBEFACE. 225

Saturdaye in Wytson-weke wan the basschope made
ordyrs ; and he beheld the servyce, and he askyd a
knyght what folke schuld be tho that stode before
the busschope. And the knyght seyd the schuld be
prester; and than he seyd, that a. wold no more be
callyd emperour nor kynge, but prester. And he wold
haue the name of hym that cam out wat that euer
he hight. And so yt happid, that the prest that cam
out fyrst, hight John, and so hath all the emperours
sythyn be called Prester Jon." Avril, Voyage en divers
etaU d* Europe, $fc* Paris, 1693, contains some fur-
ther illustrations of the history of this renowned
character.

The hundred whifflers most richly attired who
were appointed to keepe the streets plain and open,
appear from the definition in Minsheu's Dictionary,
1617, to be club or staff bearers. Sometimes the
whifflers carried white staves, as in the annual feast
of the printers, founders, and inkmakers, so curiously
described in Handle Holme's Academy of Armory •
book iii. c. 3, where one of them is stated to have car-
ried in his right hand a great bowl of white wine and
vinegar.*

The present reprint has been made from the
seventh Edition of the Romance, 4to. 1635, with the

* Douce's Must, of Shakspeare, vol. 1, p. 507-8.
VOL. II. Q

526 SBEFACE.

loan of which the Editor was favoured by the late Mr.
TJtterson, but the last leaf being defective, was sup-
plied from a copy of the 12th Edition, 4to. London,
1682, in the Pepysian Library, Cambridge, an edition
in many respects much abbreviated, but capable of
supplying the few lines wanting in the copy made use
of on the present ocassion.

I cannot better conclude this notice than by a list
of the other works which were written by our author,
and which I am now enabled to make much more com-
plete by the researches of Mr. Chappell, to whose valu-
able introduction to his reprint of Johnson's Crown
Garland of Golden Roses for the Percy Society, I am
indebted for the greater portion of the following List of
Johnson's works.

The Nine Worthies of London ; explaining the honour-
able "Exercise of Amies, the vertues of the valiant and the
memorable attempts of Magnanimous Minds, 4to. 1592 ;
reprinted in the Harleian Miscellany, viii. 437. ed. Park.

Anglorum Lachrymce m a sad Passion, complaining
the Death of Queene Elizabeth, yet comforted againe by
the vertuous hopes ofJ&ng James, 4ito. 1603.

The Pleasant Walhes of Moore-fields, 4to. 1607.

A Remembrance of the Honors due to the Life and
Death of Robert Uarle of Salisbury, 4to. 1612.

PBEFACE. 227

The Pleasant Conceites of Old Sobson the Merry
Londoner, full of Humorous Discourses and Witty
Merriments. Collected together by E. J. London,
1607, 4to. black letter.

The Orowne Garland of Golden Roses gathered out
of England's Boy al Garden, $c. 1612, 1631, 1659, 1662,
1680, 1692— Beprinted by the Percy Society.

The History of Tom Thumbe (in prose), 12mo. 1621.

Dainty Conceits, 1630.

Kichard Johnson likewise reprinted Don Mores of
Greece, 4to. 1664.

THE

MOST PLEASANT HISTORY

OF

TOM A LINCOLN E,

THAT RENOWNED SOLDIEB,

THE BED EOSE KNIGHT,

WHO FOB HIS VALOTTB AND CHIYALBT WAS SIBNAMED

Cf)t ffioatft of Snglantt.

Shewing his Honourable Victories in Forraine Countries, with

his strange Fortunes in the Fayrie Land : and how hee

married the faire Anglitora, daughter to Prester

John, that renowned Monarke of the

World.

Together with the lives and Deaths of his two famous Sons, the
Blacke Knight, and the Fayrie Knight, with divers
other memorable accidents, full of
delight.

The Seventh Impression.

LONDON :

PRINTED BY A. M. AND ARE TO BE SOLD BY FRANCIS FAULKNER, AND

FRANCIS CO U LIS, 1635.

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFULL SIMON WORTEDGE
OF OKENBERRIE, IN THE COUNTY OF HUN-
TINGTON, ESQ. HEALTH, HAPPINESSE
AND PROSPERITY.

The generall report and consideration (right worshipfull) of your
exceeding curtesie, and the great friendship which my parents
have heretofore found at the hands of your renowned father, do
imbolden me to present unto your worship these my unpolisht
labours ; which if you shall vouchsafe to cast a favourable glance
upon, and therein find any part or parcell pleasing to your
vertuous mind, I shall esteeme my travell most highly honoured.
The history (I present) you shall find delightfull, the matter not
offensive to any ; only my skill in penning is very simple, and
my presumption great, in presenting so rude a piece of worke to
so wise a patron ; which I hope your worship will the more beare
with, and account the rather to be pardonable, in that the fault
proceedeth from a good meaning.

Your worship's devoted, and
poore countryman,

It. I.

THE PLEASANT HISTORIE OF TOM A LINCOLNE,
THE RED ROSE KNIGHT, FOR HIS VALOUR
AND CHIVALRIE, SURNAMED
THE BOAST OF ENGLAND.

CHAP. L

How King Arthur loued faire Angellica, the Earle of
Londons Daughter : and likewise of the birth of
Tom a Lincolne.

When as King Arthur wore the imperial diadem of
England, and by his chivalrie had purchased many
famous victories, to the great renowne of this mayden
land, hee ordeined the order of the Bound Table, and
selected many worthy knights to attend his Majestie j
of whose glittering renowne many ancient histories doe
record ; and witnesse to all insuing ages.

This worthy prince, upon a time intending to visit
the city of London, with some few number of his
knights, came and feasted with Androgius, being at that
time Earle of London ; whose house (as then) was not
onely replenished with most delicate fare, but grac't
with a number of beautifull ladyes who gave such a

234 TOM A LINCOLN E.

pleasing entertainment to King Arthur and his knights,
that they were ravished with pleasure, and quite forgot
the sound of martial! drums that had wont to summon
them forth to the fields of honour. Amongst these
glorious troopes of London ladyes, Angellica the Earles
daughter, had the chiefest praise for beauty and courtly
behaviour ; for even as the silver shining moone in a
winters frosty night, surpasseth the brightest of the
twinckling stars, so faire Angellicas sweet feature
exceeded the rest of the ladies ; whereby King Arthur
was so intangled in the snares of love, that by no means
he could withdraw his affections from her divine excel-
lence. He that before delighted to tread a weary march
after Bellonas drums, was now constrained to trace
Cupids pleasures in ladies chambers ; and could as well
straine the strings of a lovers lute as sound a souldiers
alarme in the field : her beautie like the adamant drew
his steeled heart to lodge in the closure of her brest:
and no company delighted so much the love-sicke king
as the presence of faire Angellica. So upon a time as
he stood looking out of his chamber window, he espied
the mistris of his soule sitting in a garden under a
bower of vines, prettily picking the ripest grapes with
her delicate hands, and tooke such pleasant paines in
that mayden-like exercise, that the well coloured blood
in her face began to waxe warm, and her cheeks to
obtaine such an excellent beauty, that they seemed like
two purple roses intermix! with hawthorne-buds :
whereby King Arthur grew inamored upon her, and
stood for a time senseless through the extreame passion

TOM A LINCOLHE. 235

he tooke in beholding her beauty ; but at last, recover-
ing his senses, he spake to her in this maner.

Oh most divine Angellica, natures sole wonder,
thou excellent ornament of beauty, thy lovely face
painted with a crimson dye, thy rosicall cheecks sur-
passing snow in whitenesse, thy decent necke like purest
ivory, hath, like a fowler's net, entangled my yeelding
heart, whereby it is for evermore imprisoned in thy
breast. Oh that the golden tresses of thy dainty haire
which shine like the rubys glittering in the sun, had
never twinckled before my ravisht eyes, then had my
heart injoyed his wonted liberty, and my fancie been
free from lovers vaine imaginations. Thus, and in like
maner complained the king unto himselfe, seeking by
all meanes possible to exclude love's fire from his brest.
But the more he strove to abandon it the more it in-
creased, and feeling no pollicie might prevaile, but that
this burning torment must of force bee quenched with
her celestial love, hee descended from his chamber, and
went bouldly into the garden ; where, taking Angellica
by the hand as shee sate upon a bed of violets, which,
as then, grew under the arbour, in this manner began
to court her.

Faire of all faires (sayd the king) divine and beau-
tious paragon, faire flower of London, know that since
my aboad in thy father's house, thy beauty hath so con-
quered my affections, and so bereaved me of my liberty
that unless thou vouchsafe to coole my ardent desires
with a willing graunt of thy love, I am like to dye a

236 TOM A LINCOLNE.

languishing death, and this countrey, England, of force
must lose him that hath filTd her boundes with many
triumphant victories : therefore sweete Angellica, if thy
hard heart be so obdurate that the teares of my true love
may nothing mollifie, yet take pitty on thy countrey,
that through thy cruelty she loose not her wanton
glory, and be made unhappy by the losse of her sove-
raigne ; thou seest, my divine Angellica, how I, that
have made princes stoope, and kings to humble when I
have frownde, doe now submissively yeeld my high
honour to thy feete, either to be made happy by thy
love, or unhappy in thy hate, that in time to come
children may either blesse, or curse thee. Of these
two consider which thou wilt perform, either with
cruelty to kill mee, or with clemencie to preserve mee.

This unexpected request of the king so amazed
Angellica that her cheeks were stayned with blushing
shame, and like a bash full maiden (for a time) stood
silent, not knowing in what manner to answer him,
considering hee was king of England, and shee but
daughter to an earle. But at last, when feare and shame
had a while strove together in her heart, shee replyed
in this sort.

Most mighty king, said she, if your entertainment
in my father* s house hath been honorable, seek not the
foule dishonour of his daughter, nor proffer to blemish
the bud of her verginitie with the least thought of your
unchast desires, the losse of which sweete jemme, is
a torment to my soule more worse than death. Con-

TOM A LINCOLNE. 237

sider with yourselfe (most worthy prince) the blacke
scandall that it may bring unto your name, and honour,
having a queene, a most vertuous and loyall princesse.
Thinke upon the staine of your marriage bed, the
wrongs of your wedded pheere and lasting infamie of
your divine glorie, for this I vow (by Dianaes bright
majestie) before I will yield the conquest of my virginitie
to the spoyle of such unchast desire, I will suffer more
torments then mans heart can imagine : therefore,
(most mighty soveraigne) cease your unreverend suite
for I will not loose that matchlesse Jewell for all the
treasure the large ocean container : And in speaking
these words shee departed thence, and left the lovesicke
king in the arbour complaining to the emptieayre, where
after hee had numbered many determinations together,
this hee purposed ; never to cease his suite, till he had
gained what his soule so much desired: for continually at
the break of day, when Titans beautie began to shine,
and Auroraes blush to appeare, would hee always send
to her chamber window the sweetest musicke that could
bee devised ; thinking thereby to obtaine her love.
Many times would hee solicite her with rich gifts and
large promises, befitting rather an empresse than the
daughter of an earle, profering such kindnesses, that if
she had a heart of iron, yet could she not choose but re-
lent and requite his curtesies, for what is it that time
will not accomplish, having the hand of a king set
thereunto;

Twelve weary dayes King Arthur spent in wooing of

238 TOM A LINCOLHE.

Angellica before he could obtaine his heart's happinesse,
and his soul's contente ; at the end of which time she
was as plyant to his will, as is the tender twig to the
hand of the husbandman. But now their secret meaning
required a pollicie to keepe their privie loves both from
King Arthurs queene, and from old Androgius, An-
gellica's father : and that their secrete loves might long
time continue without mistrust of anypartie whatsoever,
this device they contrived : that Angellica should desire
liberty of her father, to spend the remainder of her life
in the service of Diana, like one that abandoned all
earthly vanitie, honouring true chastitie and rejigious
life : so with a demure countenance, and a sober grace,
she went unto her father, and obtained such leave at his
hands, that he willingly condescended that she should
live as a professed nunne, in a monasterie that the king
before time had builded in the citie of Lincolne ; and so
furnishing her forthwith such necessaries as her state
required, he gave her his blessing, and so committed her
to Dianaes service.

But now Angellica being no sooner placed in the
monastery and chosen a sister of that fellowship, but
King Arthur many times visited her in so secret a man-
ner, and so disguisedly, that no man suspected their
pleasant meetings : but so long tasted they the joyes of
love, that in the end the nun grew great bellied and
bore King Arthurs quittance sealed in her wombe and
at the end of forty weeks she was delivered ; where in
presence of the midwife and one more whom the king

TOM A LINCOLBTE. 239

largely recompensed for their secresy, shee was made a
happy mother of a goodly son, whom King Arthur
caused to be wrapped in a mantle of greene silke, tying
a purse of gold about his necke, and so causing the mid-
wife to beare it into the field, and to lay it at a shepherds
gate neare adjoyning to the citie, in hope the old man
should foster it as his own ; by which means his Angel-
ica's dishonour might be kept secret from the world,
and his own disgrace from the murmuring reports of
the vulgar people.

This his commandment was so speedily performed by
the midwife, that the very next morning she stole the
young infant from his mother's keeping, and bore it
secretly to the place appointed, there laying it downe
upon a turfe of greene grasse ; it seemed prettily to
smile turning its chrystall eyes up towards the elements,
as though it foreknew its owne good fortune* This
being done, the midwife withdrewe herselfe some little
distance from that place, and hid herselfe closely behind
a* well growne oake, deligently marking what should
betide the comfortlesse infant ; but long she had not
there remained, but there flocked such a number of little
birds about the young harmlesse babe, and made such a
chirping melody, that it fell into a silent slumber, and
slept as sweetly as though it had beene laid in a bed of
softest silke.

By this time, the golden sunne began to glisten on
the mountaine top, and his sister Luna to withdraw her
waterish countenance : at which time the pleasant shep-

240 TOM A LIKCOLKE.

herds began to tune their morning notes and to rejoyce
unto their folded sheepe, according to their wonted
manner : Amongst which crew of lusty swaynes, old
Antonio approached forth of his gate with a cheerfull
countenance, whose beard was as white as polished
silver, or like to snowe lying upon the northern moun-
taines: this bonny shepherd no sooner espyed An-
gelica's sweete babe lying upon the greene hillocke, but
immediately hee tooke it up ; and viewing circumspectly
every parcell of the rich vestements wherein it was
wrapped, at last found out the purse of gold, which the
king had tyed unto, the child's necke, whereat the
shepherd so exceedingly rejoyced, that for the time he
stood as a man ravished with pleasure, and was not able
to remove from the place where he stood : but yet at
last thinking with himselfe that heaven had sent him
that good fortune,not onely giving him riches but withall
a sonne, to be a comfort to him in his latter yeares ; so
bearing it in to his old wife,and withall the purse of gold,
and the rich mantle, with the other things : who at the
sight thereof was as highly pleased as her husband when
he found it first : so being both agreed to foster, and
bring it up as their own, considering, that nature never
gave them in all their life any child, incontinently they
caused it to be christned, and called by the name of
Tom A Lincolne, (after the towne where it was
found) a name most fitting for it, in that they knew not
who were his true parents.

But now speake wee againe of the midwife, that

TOM A LINCOLNE. 241

after shee had beheld how kindly old Antonio received
the young infant, she returned backe unto Angellica's
chamber, whom shee found bitterly lamenting the loss
of her tender babe, thinking that some fayrie nymph
had stolen it away ; but such was the kind comfort
which the smooth-tonged midwife gave her in that ex-
tremity, whereby her sorrow seemed the less, and her
mistrustful! feare exchanged into smiling hope : yet
neither would the king nor the midwife at any time
whatsoever make knowne unto her what was become of
her little sonne, but driving her ofll with delayes and
fond excuses, lest having intelligence of his abode she
should (through kind love and naturall affection) goe
visite him, and so discover their loves practices. Thus
lived the most faire Angellica many dayes in great griefe
wishing his returne, and desiring heaven that the desti-
nies might be so favourable, that once againe before the
fatall sisters had finished her life she might behold her
infant's face, for whose presence her very soule thirsted.
Here will we leave the solitary lady comfortlesse and
without company (except it were the king who some-
times visited her by stealth) and report what happened
to Tom a Lincolne in the shepherd's house.

CHAP. II.

Of the manner of Tom a Lincolne bringing up, and
how hee first came to be called the Red Rose
Knight, with other things that hapned to him.

Great was the wealth that old Antonio gathered toge-
ther, by means of the treasure he found about the

TOL. II. E

242 TOM A LItfCOLNE.

infants attire, whereby hee became the richest in all
that country, and purchasfc such lands and livings, that
his supposed sonne (for wealth) was deemed a fit match
for a knights daughter : yet for all this his bringing up
was but meane, and in a homely sort, for after he had
passed ten years of his age he was set to keep Antonio's
sheepe, and to follow husbandry, whereby he grew
strong and hardy, and continually gave him self e to
painefull endeavours, imagining and devising haughty
and great enterprises ; yet, notwithstanding, was of ho-
nest and virtuou# conditions, well featured, valiant,
active, quick, and nimble, sharpwitted, and of a ripe
judgment : hee was of a valiant and invincible courage,
so that from his cradle and infancy, it seemed he was
vowed to Mars and martiall exployts. And in his life i

and manners is deciphered the image of true nobility ;
for though hee obscurely lived in a countrey cottage,
yet had hee a superior mind, ayming at state and ma-
jesty, bearing in his breast the princely thoughts of his
father. For on a time having cattell in the field among
other young men of his age and condition, he was
chosen (in sport by them) for their lord or knight, and
they to attend on him like dutiful servants ; and though
this their election was but in play, yet hee whose
spirits were ravished with great and high matters, first
procured them to sweare to him loyalty in all things,
and to obey him as a king, where, or when it should
please him in any matter to command them, to which
they all most willingly condescended. Thus after they
had solemnly taken their oathes, he persuaded them to

TOM A LINCOLNE. 243

leave that base and servile kind of life, seeking to serve
in war, and to follow him, being the generall ; the which
through perswasion they did, and so leaving their cattell
to their fathers and masters, they assembled all toge-
ther, to the full number of a hundred at least : unto
whom he severally gave certain red roses, to be worne
for colours in their hats, and commanded them that ever
after he should be called the Bed Eose Kjstight.

So in this manner departed he with his followers
unto Barnsdale Heath, where they pitched up tents and
lived long time upon the robberies and spoyles of pas-
sengers, insomuch that the whole country was greatly
molested by them.

This disordered life so highly displeased the parents
of these unruly outlaws, that many of them dyed with
griefe ; but especially of all other, old Antonio took it
in ill part, considering how dearly hee loved him, and
how tenderly he had brought him up from his infancie ;
therefore he purposed to practice ameane tocallhimfrom
that uncivill kind of life, if it might possible be brought
to passe : so in his old dayes undertaking this taske, hee
travelled towards Barnsdale heath, into which being no
sooner entered but some of the ruder sorte of these
outlawes seized upon the old man, and without any
further violence brought him before their lord and cap-
tain, who at the first sight knew him to be his father
(as he thought) and therefore used him most kindly,
giving him the best entertainment that hee could devise :
where, after they had some small time conferred toge-

244 TOlf A LINCOL17E.

ther, the good old man brake out into these speeches ;
Oh thou degenerate (quoth he) from natures kind :
is this thy duty to thy father's age, thus disobediently
to live, wounding thy natural country with unlawfull
spoyles ? Is this the comfort of mine age, is this thy
love unto thy parents, whose tender care hath beene
ever to advance thy estate P Canst thou behold these
milk white haires of mine all so rent and torne, which
I have violently martyred in thy absence ? Canst thou
indure to see my dim eyes almost sightlesse through
age, to drop down teares at thy disobedient feet ? Ah
wherefore hast thou infringed the lawes of nature thus
cruelly to kill thy father's heart with grief, and to end
his dayes by thy vitious life P Eeturne, returne, deare
childe, banish from thy breast these base actions, that I
may say I have a virtuous sonne ; and be not like the
viperous brood that works the untimely death of their
parents. And speaking these words, griefe so exceeded
the bounds of reason that he stood silent, and beginning
againe to speake, teares trickled from his eyes in such
abundance, that they stayed the passage of his speech ;
the which being perceived by the * Red Eose Knight,'
he humbly fell upon his knees, and in this sort spake
unto good Antonio : Most deare and reverend father,
if my offence doe seem odious in your eyes that I
deserve no forgivenesse, then here behold now your
poore inglorious sonne, laying his breast open, ready
prepared to receive deaths remorselesse stroke from
your aged hands, as a due punishment for this my dis-

TOM A LINCOLNE. 245

obedient crime ; but to be reclaimed from this honoura-
ble kind of life (I count it honourable, because it tasteth
of manhood,) first shall the sun bring day from out the
westerne heavens, and the silver moone lodge her
brightnesse in the eastern waves, and all things else
against both kind and nature turne their wonted course.
"Well then (quoth Antonio) if thy resolution be such,
that neither my bitter teares, nor my faire intreaties
may prevaile to withdraw thy vaine folly, then know
(thou most ungratious impe) that thou art no son of
mine, but sprung from the bowels of some untamed
tyger, or wild lionesse, else wouldst thou humbly submit
thyselfe to my reverent persuasions : from whence thou
earnest I know not, but sure thy brest harbours the
tyranny of some monstrous tyrant, from whose loynes
thou art naturally descended. Thou art no fruit of my
body, for I found thee (in thy infancie) lying in the
fields, cast out as a prey for ravening fowles, ready to
be devoured by hunger-starved dogs ; but such was my
pittie towards thee that I tooke thee up, and ever since
have fostered thee as mine owne childe ; but now such
is thy unbridled folly, that my kind courtesie is requited
with extreame ingratitude, which sin above all others
the immortall powers of heaven doe condemne, and the
very devils themselves doe hate : therefore like a serpent
henceforth will I spit at thee, and never cease to make
incessant prayers to the justfull heavens, to revenge
this thy monstrous disobedience.

These words being ended, he gave such an extreame

246 TOM A LINCOLNE.

sigh, that his very heart brake with griefe, and he
immediately dyedinthepresenceoftheEedEose Knight.
For whose death hee made more sorrowfull lamentation,
then Niobe did for her seven sonnes. But in recompence
of old Antonios kind love, that preserved his infancie
from the fury of ravenous fowles, he entombed him
most stately in the citie of Lincoln, whose body hee
sent thither by certaine passengers who hee had taken
and withall a thousand pounds in treasures, to be
bestowed upon a great bell to be rung at his funerall,
which bell he caused to be called Tom a Lincolne,
' after his own name, where to this day it remaineth in
the same citie. These passengers being as then rich
merchants of London, having received the dead body of
Antonio, and withall the treasure went with all speed
into Lincolne and performed every thing as the Bed
Rose Knight had appointed.

The death of this good old man not only caused a
generall sorrow through the whole citie, but strooke such
an extreame griefe to old Antonio's wife, that she within
few dayes yielded her life to the remorselesse stroke of
the frowning destinies, and was buried in the same grave
where her husband was intombed: whose death we
will now leave to be mourned by their dearest friends,
and likewise for brevities sake, passe over many strata-
gems which were accomplished by the Eed Rose Knight
and his followers upon Barnsdale Heath, and returne to
King Arthur and his knights flourishing in the English
Court.

TOM A LINCOLNE. 247

CHAP. III.

Of the first Conquest of Portingale by the Eed Hose
Knight, and how hee was the first that ever triumph-
ed in the Citie of London.

The report of Tom a Lincolne's practises grew so
generall amongst the vulgar sort of people, that at last it
came to King Arthur's eares, who imagined in his
princely mind, that he was sprung of his blood, and that
hee carried lofty thoughts of honour planted in his
brest, though shrowded under a countrey life ; therefore,
through kind nature hee purposed to have him resident
in court with him, that he might daily see his lively
sparkes of honour shew their resplendent brightnesse,
yet in such obscurity, that he should not know the small-
est motion of his parentage : therefore he called together
three of his approved knights, namely, Lancelot du Lake,
Sir Tristam, and Sir Triamore, and gave them in
charge, if it were possible to fetch the Eed Rose Knight
unto his court, whose adventurous exployts hee hath
heard so many times reported ; and withall hee gave
them generall pardon sealed with his privie seale for
him and all his lawlesse followers.

This commission being received by the three worthie
knights, they with all speed armed themselves in rich
corselets, and strong habiliments of war, and so rode
towards Barnsdale Heath; where being no sooner
come, and delivered their message from the king, but the
Red Rose Knigbt gave them honourable welcome, and

248 TOM A LIKCOLNE.

for three daies most royally feasted them under large
canvasse tents, wherein they slept as securely as they
had been in King Arthur's court, or in a strong castle
of war. After this Tom a Lineolne selected out a
hundred of his resolute followers, such as he best liked
of, and came with Sir Lancelot and the rest to the
English court, where King Arthur not onely gave him
a friendly entertainment, but also installed him one
of his Knights of the Bound Table : and withall pro-
claimed a solemne turniament that should be holden in
the honour of this new made knight, to which turnia-
ment assembled from other countries many princes,
barons, and knights of high honour, which behaved
themselves most nobly, and won great commendations
of every beholder ; but specially the Bed Rose Knight,
who for that day stood as chiefe champion against all
commers. In that turniament, or first dayes deed of
his knighthood, where onely by his valour and prowesse
he overthrew three kings and thirty other knights, all
famouzed for chivalry ; whereby he obtained such grace
in the English court, that he had by the king a paire of
golden spurres put upon his feet; and generally of the
whole assembly he was accounted one of the bravest
knights that there lived in the world.

But now marke how frowning fortune ended their
triumphes with unlucky newes ; for the same day, be-
fore the knights had unbuckled their armours, their
arrived a messenger, who certified King Arthur how his
ambassadors was unjustly done to death in the Portingale

TOM A LINCOLNE. 249

Court, (which was an act contrary both to the faith of
princes, and the law of armes.) For whose death king
Arthur grew so inraged, that be sware by the honour of
his bright renowne, and by the golden spur of true
knighthood, the Fortingales should repent that inhuman
violence with the death of many thousand guiltlesse
soules : and that babes unborne should have just cause
to curse the first contriver of that unjust murther :
therefore with all speede hee mustered up a mighty army
of souldiers, and (because hee was continually molested
with home-bred mutinies and treacherous rebellions,
the which himselfe in person of force must pacific,)
appointed the Eed Rose Knight as cheife generall
over the armie mustered for Portingale. In which
service hee accomplished so many famous exployts that
hee was for ever after surnamed The Boast of Eng-
land. For no sooner had hee the whole campe in
charge, and aboard their ships, but hee proved the per-
fect patterne of an exquisite souldier ; such a one as all
martiall captaines may learne to imitate ; for hee so
circumspectly ordered his captaines, that in his campe
was never knowne any brawle or mutinie. Hee was
very courteous and liberall, doing honour to all men
according to their deserts. Hee so painefully, and with
such care instructed his souldiers, that at an instant,
allways f if it were needfull) every man by the sound of
a drumme or trumpet was found in his charge or quarter.
And (to be briefe) his campe resembled one of the
greatest cities in the world, for all kind of officers were

250 TOM A LTNCOLNE.

there found in order; and also a great number of
merchants to furnish it with all manner of necessaries.
He in no case permitted any robberies, private fighting,
force or violence ; but with severity punished those that
were therein found guilty. His desire was, that his
souldiers should glory in nothing so much as in martiall
prowesse, vertue, and wisdome. He evermore gave
them their pay without fraud or deceipt. He honoured,
he praised, he imbraced and kissed them, and withall
kept them in awe and subjection : by which meanes his
fame and honour grew so renowned, that his army dayly
increased more and more ; for when he first arrived
upon the confines of Portingale his campe grew to be as
great as ever was Caesar's, when hee conquered the
westerne world, and in matchlesse prowesse nothing
inferiour unto his. So fortunate were his proceedings
that hee made a great part of the provinces of Portingale
desolate, not being intercepted by any, but spoyling
every towne and city as hee went, untill such time as
the Portingale king had gathered together amarvailous
number of souldiers, both olde, and of much experience,
by reason of the continuall warres that they bad with
the Turkish nation adjoyning neere unto them. But
when the Portingale king (like an expert souldier)
seeing that no way he might resist the English army,
nor expell them his country, unlesse hee gave them
present battaile, therefore trusting in his approved
manhood, and the prowesse of his souldiers, he set his
army in a readinesse,and so marched forward to meet the

TOM A LINCOLN E. 251

Eed Eose Knight, and his warlike followers, which at
that time had pitched his campe in a large champaine
plaine, adjoyning neere unto the city of Lishborne,
whereat both these armies met ; and setting them in
order (as it became good captaines), there they beganne
(in the breake of the day) the most cruell and terriblest
battle that ever was heard of, or fought in that age,
considering the number of both parties, their ex-
perience and pollicie, with the valiant courage and
prowesse of their captaines.

In great danger continued this fight till the sun
beganne to set with marveilous slaughter on both sides ;
yet remayned the victory doubtfull, declining neither to
the Portingales, nor yet to the English ; but at last
(though long) the Portingales began to faint and flee,
more indeed oppressed with the multitude than for any
feare they received in the battle ; for the most part of
them with honour died manfullv in the field, some
taken prisoners, and the rest fled for their better safety :
but now the Portingale king perceiving his souldiers
begin to fly, with courage hee sought to withdraw them
from flight, resisted in person valiantly the furious rage
of the enemy ; but in that enterprise he gained such and
so many knockes, that at last he was unhorst, and for
want of rescue, was forced to yield himselfe as prisoner,
whereat the whole armies of the Portingales were dis-
comfeited, and the victory fell to the Englishmen : the
which being obtained, the Red Eose Knight with his
armie entered into the citie of Lishborne, where the

252 TOM A LINCOLNE.

common souldiers were enriched with wealthy spoyles,
and theking'spalace ransacked by theBedBose Knight ;
where he tooke such prisoners as him best liked, and the
reste (like an honourable souldier,) hee set at liberty,
commanding that no violence should be profered any
way.

After this setting hi3 armie in a readinesse, he
marched towards England, where after some few dayes
travell, hee arrived with all his hoste in the westerne
parts of Devonshire, and marching towards London,
where against his comming the citizens, with the inha-
bitants of other villages, neere adjoyning, were that
day seen in their most sumptuous and rich attire, every
one of them endeavouring to place himselfe in some
gallery or window, that the better and with more ease
they might behold the triumphante returne of the Bed
Bose Knight. All the churches in London were on
every side set open, hanged round about with most
costly furniture : the streets were also most gloriously
beset with greene boughes, and strowed with perfumes
of no small value : and for the infinite multitude of
people that were seene in the citie there was appointed
a hundred whiflers most richly attired, to keepe the
streets plaine and open, whereby the triumphs might
have the easier passage, and for that the diversity of the
shewes were so many, that they of necessity were con-
strained to part them into three severall dayes.

The first day hardly suffised in good order to bring
in the banners, standards and ensignes of the conqueror,

TOM A LINCOLNE. 253

the golden images, and tables of price, which were
all brought in on carts, very curiously painted and
trimmed.

On the second day came in the armour of the con-
quered king, as also of all the other Portingale lords;
and as they were rich, bright, and glittering, so were
they with most cunning ordered and couched in waggons.
After these entered three thousand men in order, bearing
nothing but money, openly to bee seene, and that in
huge platters and vessels of silver, of which were three
hundred and fifty in number, and foure of our men
allotted to every vessell : the other brought in most
artificiall tapestry works, beautifyed with gold and
silver. Arid thus was the second dayes triumphe ended
in most pompous solemnity.

Upon the third day even at the rising of the sunne,
with the first band entered (as a joyfull sound of con-
quest) an infinite number of flutes, drummes, and trum-
pets, with other like martiall and warlike instruments,
sounding not after a most pleasant and sweet manner,
but in most terrible sort, as it was possible to bee done,
even in such order as they doe when they presently
joyne battell. And after them came a hundred and
twenty kine all white, having their homes curiously
gilded with gold, their bodies covered with vailes (which
they accounted most sacred and holy) bearing also
garlands of flowers upon their heads, driven by certaine
young gentlemen, no less well favoured than gorgeously
attired. After these followed the coach of the conquered

254 TOM A LINCOLNE.

King of Portingale, with his owne armour layed
thereon openly to be seene of all men. His crowne
and royall scepter was layd in seemely order upon his
armour. After this coach came prisoners on foote, with
his owne naturall children, being little infants ; and
after them followed a great troope of his servants and
officers, as masters of his household, secretaries, ushers,
controllers, chamberlaines, with other gentlemen of his
court, all in a most sorrowfull manner, seeing themselves
brought into such extremity and servitude, that they
moved to compassion all such as beheld them. Of the
kings children there were two boyes, and one girle ; of
age so young and tender, that they had small under-
standing of their misfortune and misery.

In this triumph followed the father of his owne
children (after the usage of his country) clad in black
mourning garments, sorrowing likewise for his hard mis-
fortune. Then followed sundry of his approved friends,
which, beholding in that plight their unhappy prince
brake out into teares and sighs so bitterly that their
enemies themselves grieved at their mishaps.

After these followed one which carried certaine pre-
cious stones that had beene presented to the Eed Rose
Knight, from some ancient cities in Portingale who im-
mediately followed in person triumphantly in his ivory
charriot, apparelled in vestures of purple tissue, having
a lawrell bough in his hand, and a crowne of the same
upon his head. After him followed his owne souldiers
both foot-men andhorsemen all marchingin most decent

TOM A IiHTCOLlTE. 255

order, armed with rich furniture, holding also each of
them a lawrell bough in his hand, their ensignes and

bannerssouldierlikedisplayed,sonndingmartiallmelodv,
in honour of their triumphant captaine ; with many
other like presidents most royal and magnificent. Thus
in this gallant order marched they to the king's chapell,
where in the presence of the king and his lords, (which
came to honour and grace their triumphs) they gave
thanks to God for their successfull victory ; and after
solemn service was ended they departed to king Arthurs
court, where every one, as well strangers as others
were most royally feasted.

The Portingale king seeing his kind entertainment
in the English court, where he was used more like a
friend then an enemie, bad small care to return home,
but frolicked many a day amongst the English lords ;
whose loves unto strangers be evermore most honoura-
ble. But so great were the courtesies that the noble
King Arthur bestowed upon the Portingales, who for
their proffered disgraces requited them liberally with
honour ; and not onely sent them home ransomlesse,
but promised to lende them ayde and succour from Eng-
land if occasion required ; So bearing them company to
the sea shore, hee most friendly committed them to the
mercy of the winds and waves which were so favourable,
that in short time they arrived safe in their owne
country, where many a day after they remembered the
honourable kindness of the Englishmen, and caused
the chronicles of Portingale to record the renowne of
King Arthur and his Knights of the Bound Table.

256 TOM A LINCOLKE,

CHAP. IV.

How the Bed Rose Knight travelled from the King of
Englands court, and how be arrived in the Eayerie
land, where he was entertained by a Mayden Queene,
and what bapned to him in the same country.

Now, after the Portingales were thus conquered, and
sent home with great honour, the English king and his
lords rested themselves many a day in the bowers of
peace, leaving their armour rusting, and their pampered
steedes standing in their stables forgetting their usual!
manner of wrathfull warre : which idle ease greatly dis-
concerted the magnanimious Bed Rose Knight, who
thought it a staine to his passed glory, and a scandal to
his princely mind to entertaine such base thoughts :
and considering with himselfe how ignorant hee was of
his true parents, and from whence hee was descended
hee could not imagine ; therefore hee purposed to begin
a new enterprise, and to travell up and down the world
till hee had either found his father and mother or else
yielded his life to natures course in that pretended
journey : so going to the king, (full little thinking that
he was sprung from so noble a stocke), craving at his
graces hand, to grant Mm such liberty, for to try his
knighthood in forraine countries, whereas yet did never
Englishman make his adventure, and to eternize his
name to all posterity, rather than to spend his life in
such home-bred practises.

To this his honourable request the king, (though
loath to foregoe his company yet because it belonged to

TOM A L1NCOLKE. 257

knightly attempts) hee gave him leave, and withall
furnished him a shippe at his owne proper cost and
charges, giving free license to all knights whatsoever to
beare him company : amongst which number Sir Laun-
celot du Lake was the chiefest that proffered himselfe
to that voyage, who professed such love to the Red
Eose Knight, that they ^flighted their faiths like sworne
brothers, and to live and die together in all extremities.
So these two English knights, with the number of a
hundred more, all resolute gentlemen, tooke leave of the
king, and with all speed went a ship board : wherein
being no sooner entered, but thepylothoisted sayle, and
dis»anchored, and so committed their lives and fortunes
to the pleasure of Neptunes mercie, upon whose watry
kingdome they had not many dayes sayled, but ^Eolus
brazen gates burst open, and the windes so violently
troubled the swelling waves, that every minute they
were in danger to end their lives in the bottome of the
seas.

Three moneths the wind and the waters strove to-
gether for supremacie, during which time they saw no
land, but were driven up and downe to what place the
ever changing Destinies listed: so at last they sayled be-
yond the sunne, diverted onely by the light of the
starres, not knowing which way to travell towards land;
but in such extremity for want of victuall, that they
were forced to land at a certaine island in the westerne
parts of the world, inhabited onely by women ; where
being no sooner on land, and giving God thankes for de-

VOL. II. s

258 TOM A MtfCOLNB.

livering them from that mortall perill, but the Eed Rose
Knight cast up his eyes towards the higher parts of the
country, and espied more than two thousand women
coming forth at a citie gate, all most richly armed with
brest plates of silver, marching in trim array, like an
anny of well approved souldiers ; the which number
coming neare to the sea side they sent two of their
damsels as messengers to the English knights, willing
them as they loved their lives, presently to retire againe
backe to the seas, for that was no countrey for their
abode. But when the Eed Rose Knight of England had
understood the bold message of the two damsels he was
sore abashed, (considering the number of armed women
he saw before him, and the great dangers they had suf-
fered before onthe sea for want of victuall) thathee knew
• not in what manner hee was best to answer them ; but
having a good courage, hee at last spake to the two
damsels in this sort ; Right noble ladies, I have well un-
derstood your speeches ; therefore, I desire you for to
shew such favour unto wandering travellers as to tell us
in what countrey fortune hath brought us to, and for
what cause we are commanded by you to returne to the
sea ? Surely Sir Knight (answered one of the damsels)
this countrey whereon you are arrived, it is not very
bigge, but yet most fertile and commodious ; and is
called by the name of the Eayerie-Land : And now to
shew you the cause why you are commanded to returne*
this it is. Not many yeares agoe there raigned in this
countrey a king which had to name Larmos, for wis--

TOM A LINCOLNE. 259

dome and prowesse not his equall was found in any of
these parts of the world. This king had such continuall
war against the bordering Flanders, that upon a time he
was constrained to muster for the same war all the men
both young and old which were found in his kingdome,
whereby the whole countrey was left destitute of men,
to the great discontentment of the ladies and damsels
that here inhabited ; whereupon they finding themselves
so highly wronged, living without the company of men,
they generally assembled themselves together, with the
daughterof King Larmos, which is called Cselia, no lease
in beautie then in virtue and wisedome. These ladies
and damsels being gathered together, with a generall
consent, dispatched certaine messengers to the king,
and to their husbands, willing them to returne unto
their countrey, and not to leave their wives and children
in such extremity, without the comfort and company of
man. Upon which the king answered, that hee had
besieged his enemies in their townes of war ; and before
one man should returne home till he came with con-
quest, his countrey should be lost and made desolate,
and the women given over to the spoyle of his enemies;
which answer when the ladies had received, they tookeit
in such evill part, that they conspired against their
kingand husbands, and put to death all the men children
that were in the countrey ; and after determined, when
their husbands, fathers, and friends returned from the
war, that they should the first night of their coming be
slaine sleeping in their beds, and that never after they

260 TOM A LIITOOLKfc.

should suffer man to enter into their eountrey. After
this conclusion, they crowned Cselia the king's daughter
for their queene : and so afterwards when the king and
his annie returned from the wars, this bloody murder
was practised, and not a man left alive) but only the
king reserved, whom Cselia would in no wise against
nature murther ; but yet notwithstanding she delivered
him into the hands of her chiefest ladies, which put him
into a boat alone, and so sent him to sea to seeke his
fortune. Whereas most noble knight this is the cause
why you may not enter into our country, which if you
doe, and not presently withdraw yourselves unto the
sea, the ladies will suddenly give you a mervaillous
battell.

Now by the everliving God which Englishmen adore,
(said the noble Eed Rose Knight) such extremitie have
wee suffered at sea, that we are like to perish and dye
with hunger unlesse we find some succour at your
hands ; and before we will end our lives with famine,
we will enter battell with those ladies, and so dye
with honour in the field ; yet this kindnesse doe we
humbly desire at your hands, to returne unto your
Queene, and certifie her of our poor estate. and neces-
sity, and that wee altogether instantly desire her, that if
there bee any sparke of vertue or nobility harboured in
her brest, that shee will have pitie upon us, and suffer
us not to end our lives by such an unhappy kind of
death. "With this request the two damsels returned to
the Queene and recounted from word to word the humble

TOM A LINOOLNE. 261

•

suit of the Eed Eose Knight and what extremity they
were in: which when the queene understood, and that
they were knights of England, the fame of which
countrey she had so often heard reported, shee de-
manded what manner of people they were, and of what
condition ; suerly madam (answered one of the two
damsels) I never in all my life saw more goodly men,
nor better spoken: and it is to bee supposed they be the
choyse of all humane people, and with their courteous
demeanors are able to draw the mercilesse and savage
nation to affect them.

The queene hearing the damsels so highly to com-
mend the English knights, thinking also upon their re-
quest, began (in minde) to have pitie of their misadven-
tures, and so instantly sent for them, and gave them free
libertie to make their aboad in her .country : which in-
continently when the English knights heard, how they
should receive a kinde welcome, and a friendly enter-
tainement, grew so exceeding joyfull, as though heaven
had sent them present comfort ; so comming before the
queene and her ladies, they saluted each other most
courteously, and with great reverence. But when the
vertuous queene beheld this noble company before her,
in all humilitie, she delivered to a hundred of her ladies,
the hundred English knights, and reserved the princely
Eed Eose Knight unto herselfe ; and so were they
brought to the queenes pallace, where every lady feasted
her knight in most gallant sorte, and to their hearts
contente. But now when the queene had he Eed Eose

262 TOM Jl lixoolxe.

Knight in her chamber, and had beheld the exceeding
beautie of the noble prince, shee tooke him by the hand,
and led him into one of her chambers, where shee
shewed him her riches and treasures : and after said
unto him in this manner.

Most noble and valiant Englishman, these riches bee
all onely at thy commandements, and also my body,
which here I offer up as a gift and present to thy divine
excellence ; and furthermore there is nothing of value
which I am mistris of,but shall bee at thy disposing, to
the intent that my love may be acceptable to thy gracious
eyes. But when the Eed Eose Knight perceived to
what intent shee spake these gracious words, in this
manner answered he her, saying.

Most deare princesse and fair queene of this maiden
countrey, I give you right humble thankes for these
your courtesies, and by no means possible may I deserve
this high honour you have graced me with.

Oh great knight (replyed then the queene) the
smallest thought of your honourable mind is sufficient to
recompence the uttermost of my deserts ; yet let me
request this one thing at your noble hands, that never
asked the like favour of any one before, for shee that
never knew the least motion of love is now pricked with
a hundred torments, and unlesse you quench the ardent
affection wherewith my heart is fired, with the pleasant
hopes of your comfortable smiles, I am like to die
desperate, and then the world will accuse you of cruelty,
in murdering a constant lady : but if it shall please you

TOM JL LINCOLffE* 263

to grant mee love, and to espouse mee according to
Hymens holy rites ; here you shall rule sole king and
be the lord of all this countrey.

My right deare lady (answered then the Red Eose
Knight), you have donesuch pleasure to inee,and to my
distressed followers in preserving us from famine, as I
shall never requite it, though I should spend all the rest
of my life in your service. And know most excellent
princesse, that there is no adventure so dangerous, yet
at your commandement would I practise to accomplish;
yet for to tye myselfe in wedlockes bonds, there is no
woman in the world shall procure mee ; for untill I have
finished an adventure which in my heart I have vowed*
I will not linke my affections to any lady in the world.
But thinke not (madam) that I refuse your love through
disdaine; for I sweareby the dignity King Arthur grac'd
me with, I should thinke myselfe most fortunate if I had
so faire and noble a lady as your divine selfe.

Most worthy knight (then answered the queene) I
imagine that the gods have sente you into this countrey
for two causes principally : The first is, that you and
your followers should be preserved from death by my
meanes ; the second is, that you should inhabit in this
countrey lest it should in short time be left as a desert
wildernesse ; for it is inhabited onely by women,without
a king, and have no other governour but me) which am
their chiefe princesse ; and for so much as I have
succoured you, so succour you this desolate citie, that it
may be repeopled with your seed ; and in so doing you

264 TOM A LINCOLNE.

shall accomplish a vertuous deed, and winne to your
names an eternall memorie to all ensuing ages.

I confesse (quoth the Eed Rose Knight) that you and
your ladies have succoured me and my followers in our
great necessitie ; and in recompense whereof, wee will
employ all our endeavours to the repeopling againe of
this countrey ; but in regard of the secret vow my heart
hath made, I will not yield myselfe to your desires ; for
if I should infringe my oath mine honour were greatly
impaired; and beforel would commit that dishonourable
fact, I would suffer the greatest torment that mans heart
can imagine.

Incontinently when the love sicke queene heard this
answer of the English knight, and perceived that he was
firme to his purpose, shee took leave of him, and de-
parted for that time : The Bed Eose Knight likewise
withdrewe himselfe into his chamber, pondring in his
mind a thousand imaginations. But shee for her part
was so troubled in mind, and so wounded with the darts
of blind Cupid, that when the misty darknesse of night
had covered the earth, shee laid her downe upon her bed
where betwixt shame and her heart beganne a terrible
battaille.

Her heart was encouraged, that shee should goe and
lie with him ; but shame began to blush and withstood
that perswasion ; by which meanes the battaile was
great, and endured a long time ; but at last the heart
was conqueror, and shame vanished and put to flight in
such sort that the fairie queene rose from her bed and

TOM A LINOOLNE. 265

went and laid downe by her beloved knight, where he
slept; and being in the bed shee began fearfully to
tremble, for shame still followed her unlawfull practises ;
where after her quivering heart began a little to be qua-
lified with her trembling hand she awaked him, and after
spake in this manner.

My most deare and affectionate friend though like
a carelesse wretch I come unto thee apparelled with
shame, yet let my true love colour this my infamous
presumption, for your princely person and kingly de-
meanour, like adamants have drawne my steeled heart
to commit this shamefull act ; yet let not my fervent
affection bee requitted with disdaine ; and although you
will not consente to bee my wedded lord and husband,
yet let me bee thy love and secret friend ; that a poore
distressed queene may thinke herselfe happy in an
Englishmans love.

"When the noble knight heard the faire Ceelia's
voyce and felt her by his side, hee was so sore abashed,
that hee wist not what to doe ; but yet at last having
the nature and courage of a man, hee turned to her,
using many amorous speeches, embracing and kissing
each other in such manner, that faire Cselia was con-
ceived with child, and waxt great of a right faire sonne ;
of whom she was in processe of time safely delivered,
as you shall heare discoursed of at large in the following
historie :

But to be short, during the space of foure monethes,
the faiery ladies lay with the English knights, and many

266 TOM A LINCOLNE.

of them were conceived with their seede in such sorte*
that the countrey was afterwards repeopled with male
children, and what happened amongst them in the 1

meane season I will passe over for this time ; for the
dayes and nights (that hee and the rest) passed on
their wonted course, in which time their ship was reple-
nished with all necessaries, and the Eed Rose Knight
summond together Sir Launcelot and the rest, and
being assembled hee said unto them,

My good friends and countrymen, you know, that
long time we have sojourned in this countrey spending
our dayes in idle pastimes, to the reproach of our former
glories : now my intent is, within these three dayes to
depart this countrey, therefore let every man make
himself in readinesse, for there is no greater dishonour
to adventurous knights, than to spend their dayes in
ladies bosomes.

When Sir Launcelot and the other English gentlemen
heard the forward disposition of the Eed Rose Knight,
they were all exceeding joyfull, and answered him, that
with great willingnesse they would all be ready at the
time appointed.

But now when the fayerie ladies perceived the pre-
parations that the English knights made for their
departure, they grew exceeding sorrowfull, and com-
plained one to another in most greivous manner ; and
amongst the reste the queene was most displeased, who
with a sorrowfull and sad heart, came unto the Red Rose
Knight, and in this manner complained to him. Alas,

TOM A LINCOL5B. 267

alas> my deare lord, have ye that tyrannous heart to
withdraw yourselfe from me, and to forsake me before
you see the fruit of your noble person, which is nou
rished with my bloud. Deare knight behold with pitie
my wombe, the chamber and mansion of your bloud ;
ah let that bee a meanes to stay you, that my child (as
yet unborne) be not fatherlesse by your departure.
And in speaking these words, shee began to weepe and
sigh bitterly, and after to whisper secretly to herselfe
in this order,

Oh you immortaU heavens, how may mine eyes
behold the departure of my joy ; for being gone all
comfort in the world will forsake me, and all consolation
fly from mee ; and contrawise all sorrow will pursue me,
and all misfortune come against me. Oh what a sorrow
will it be to my soule to see thee floating on the dan-
gerous seas, where every minute perils doe arise ready
to whelme thee in the bottomlesse ocean, and being
once exempted from my sight, my heart for evermore
lie in the beds of tribulation, under the coverture of
mortale distresse, and betweene the sheets of eternall
bewailings. Yet if there be no remedy, but that thou
wilt needs depart, sweare unto me, that if ever thou
dost accomplish thy pretended voyage (what it is I know
not) that thou wilt returne againe to this countrey, to
tell me of thy happy fortunes, and that mine eyes may
once more behold thy lovely countenance, which is as
delectable to my soule as the joyes of paradise.

When the noble English knight understood that the
queene condescended to his departure, upon condition"

268 TOM A LINCOLNE.

of his returne, to which he solemnly protested, if the
Gods gave him life and good fortune, to performe her
request : whereby the fayrie queene was somwhat
recomforted : and having great hope in the returne of
her deare lorde, shee ceased her lamentation. And now
(to abridge the story) the time came that the valiant
Englishman should goe a shipboard, upon which day the
Red Rose Knight and his followers tooke leave of the
noble queene and her ladies, thanking them for their
kind entertainments, and so went to the port of the sea,
where they entred their ships, and so departed from the
fayrie land. After this when Cselia had borne her babe
in her wombe full forty weeks she was delivered of a
faire sonne, who came afterwards to be called the
Fayrie Knight, which for this time we will not touch,
but refer it to the second part of this history.

CHAP. V.

What hapned to the English Knights, after their depar-
ture from the Fayrie Land.
With a prosperous wind sayled these English knights,
many a league from the Fayrie Land, to their great con-
tents and hearts desire, where every thing seemed to
prognosticate their happy adventures ; so upon a day
when the sun shone cleare, and a gentle calme winde
caused the sea to lye as smoothly as chrystail ice,
whereby their ship lay floating on the waves, not able to
remove ; for whilst the dolphins danced upon the silver
streames, and the red gild fishes leapt about the ship,
the Red Rose Knight requested Sir Launcelot to drive

TOM A LIHCOLKE. 269

away the time with some courtly discourse, whereby
they might not thinke their voyage over long. Unto
which the good Sir Launcelot most willingly agreed ;
and although hee was a martiall knight, delighting to
heare the relentlesse sound of angry drums, which thun-
ders threats from a massaker, yet could hee like an
oratour, as well discourse a lovers historic ; therefore
requesting the Eed Eose Knight, and the other English
gentlemen to sit downe and listen to the tale that
followeth,

The Pleasant History which Sir Launcelot du Lake told
to the Eed Eose Knight, being a ship-board.

At that time of the yeare, when the birds had nipt
away the tawny leaves, and Flora with her pleasant
flowers, had inricht the earth, andincloathed the trees,
herbes, and flowers, with natures tapestrie, when the
golden sunne, with his glistring beames did glad mens
hearts, and every leafe as it were did beare the forme of
love, by nature painted upon it : this blessed time did
cause the Grecian emperour to proclaime a solemne tur-
niament to be holden in his court, which as then was re-
plenished with many worthy and valiant knights; but his
desire chiefly was, to behold his princely sonne, Valen-
tine, to try his valour in the turniament.

Many were the ladies that repayred thither, to be-
hold the worthy triumphs of this young prince ; amongst
which number came the beautifull Dulcippa, a mayden
which as then waited upon the empresse, being daughter
to a countrey gentleman.

27ft TOM A LltfCOLtfE.

This Dulcippa, like Apollos flower, being the fayrest
virgin in that company, had so firmly settled her love
upon the emperours son, that it was impossible to expell
it from her heart. Likewise his affection was no lesse
in fervencie then hers; so that there was a just equality
in their loves and likings, though a difference in their
birthes and callings.

This princely Valentine (for so was the emperours
sonne called) entred the lists in costly armour most
richly wrought with orient pearles, his crest incom-
passed with saphire stones, and in his hand a sturdie
launce. Thus mounted upon a milke white steed, hee
vaunted forth himselfe to try his warlike force ; and in
prauncing up and downe, hee many times (thorow his
beaver) stole a view of his faire Dulcippas face ; at
which time there kindled in his breast two sundry
lampes ; the one was to win the honour of the day ; the
other, to obtaine the love of his mis'tresse. On the other
side, Dulcippa did nothing but report the valiant acts of
his prowesse and chivalrie, in such sort, that there was
no other talke amongst the ladies, but of Valentines
honourable attempts.

No sooner was the turniaments ended, and this love
begun, but Dulcippa departed to her lodging, where
sighes did serve as bellowes to kindle loves fire, Valen-
. tine in like manner being wounded to death, still roam-
eth up and downe, to find a salve for his stanchlesse
thirst ; so seeks Dulcippa to restore her former liberty ;
for shee being both beloved, and in love, knew not the
meanes to comforte herself. Sometimes shee did exclaim e

TOM A LINCOLNE. 271

against her wandering eyes, and wished they had been
blind when first they gazed upon the beauty of princely
Valentine. Sometimes in visions shee beheld his face
cheerf ull, smiling upon her countenance, and presently
againe shee thought she saw his martiall hands, bathed
all in purple blood, scorning her love, and former cour-
tesies. "With that shee started from her dreaming pas-
sion, wringing her tender hands, tillfloods of silver drop-
ping teares trinkled down her face ; her golden hayre
that had wont to be bound up in threds of gold, hung
dangling downe about her ivory neck : the which in
most outrageous sort shee rent and tore, till that her hayre
which before looked like burnisht gold, were dyed now
in purple and vermilion blood. In this strange passion
remained this distressed lady, till the golden sunne had
three times lodged him in the western seas, and the
silver moone her shining face in the pallace of the
chry stall clouds. At this time a heavy slumber pos-
sessed all her senses ; for shee, whose eyes before in
three dayes, and as many nights, had not shut up their
closets, was now lockt up in silente sleepe, lest her heart
overburthened with griefe, by some untimely manner
should destroy itselfe.

But now returne we to the worthy Valentine,, who
sought not to pine in passion, but to court it with the
best, considering with himselfe that a faint heart never *
gain'd faire lady ; therefore he purposed boldly to dis-
cover his love to the fair Dulcippa, building upon a
fortunate successe, considering that shee was but

.\

272 TOM A LltfCOLJTE.

daughter to a gentleman, and he a prince borne. So
attiring himselfe in costly silkes, wearing in his haire
an Indian pearl cut out of ruby red; on eyther side,
a golden arrow thrust through a bleeding heart, to de-
clare his earnest affection. In this manner went hee to
his beloved lady, whom he found in company with other
ladies waiting upon the empresse, who taking her by
the hand, he led her aside into a gallery neere adjoyning,
where he began in this manner to expresse the passion
of his love.

Sacred Dulcippa (quoth hee) in beauty brighter
then glistering Cynthia, when with her beames she beau-
tifies the vales of Heaven. Thou art that Cynthia that
with thy brightnesse doth light my cloudy thoughts,
which have many dayes been overcast with stormy
showers of love ; shine with thy beames of mercie on
my minde, and let thy light conduct mee from the darke
and obscure labyrinths of love. If teares could speake,
then should my tongue keepe silence, therefore let my
sighes bee messengers of true love\ And though in
words, I am not able to deliver the true meaning of my
desires, yet let my cause begg pitie at your hands.
Otherwise yourdeniall drownes my soul in abottomlesse
sea of sorrow : one of these two (most beauteous lady)
doe I desire, either to give life with a cheerful smile, or
death with a fatall frowne. Valentine having no sooner
ended his loves oration, but shee with a scarlet coun-
tenance, returned him this joyfull answere.

Most nobleprince, thy words within my heart have knit

TOM A LINCOLNE. 273

a Gordian knot which no earthly wight may untie; for
it is knit with faithfull love, and teares distilling from a
constant minde. My heart, which never yet was subject
to any one, doe I freely yield up into thy bosom, where
it for evermore shall rest, till the fatall sisters cut our
lives asunder ; and in speaking these words they kissed
each other as the first earnest of their loves. With that
the empresse came thorow the gallerie, who espying
their secret conference, presently moved in her secret
hate, which shee intended to practise against the guilt-
lesse lady, thinking it a scandal to her sonnes birthe to
match in marriage with one of so base a parentage ;
therefore purposing to crosse their loves with dismall
stratagems, and dreary tragedies, shee departed to her
chamber, where shee cloaked her treacheries up in
silence, and pondered in her heart how shee might end
their loves, and finish Dulcippas life. In this tragical
imagination remained shee all that night, hammering in
her head a thousand severall practices. But no sooner
was the dreary earth comforted with the hot beames of
Apollos fire, but this thristing empresse arose from her
carefull bed, penning herselfe closely within her
chamber, like one that made no conscience for to kill,
she in all haste sent for a doctor of physicke, not to
give physicke to restore health, but poyson for untimely
death ; who being no sooner come into her presence,
but presently shee lockt her chamber doore, and with
an angry countenance, staring him in the face, shee
breathed this horrore juto his harmlesse eares : Doctor

VOL. II. t

274 TOM A LINCOLNE.

thou knowest how oft in secret matters I have used thy
helpe, wherein as jet I never saw thy faith falsifyed ;
but now amongst the rest I am to require thy ayd in an
earnest businesse, so secret, that if thou dost but tell it
to the whispering windes, it is sufficient to spread it
through the whole world ; whereby my practises may be
discovered, and I be made anoted reproach to all hearers.
Madam, (quoth the doctor, whose heart harboured no
thought of bloody deeds) what needs all these circum-
stances, where duty doth command my true obedience ;
desist not therefore, gentle empresse to make mee
privie to your thoughts ; for little did hee thinke her
mind could harbour so vile a thought ; but having con-
jured most strongly his service, shee spake to him as
followeth : Doctor, the love (nay rather raging lust)
which I have spyed of late betwixt my unnaturall sonne
and proud Dulcippa may in short time (as thou knowest)
bring asuddaine alteration of our state, considering that
hee being borne a prince, and descended from a royall
race, should match in marriage with a base and ignoble
mayden, daughter but to a meane gentleman ; therefore
if I should suffer his secret love to goe forward and seeke
not to prevent it, the emperour might condemne mee of
falsehood, and judge me an agent in this unlawfull love,
which to avoid I have a practice in my head, and in thy
hand it lyes to procure thy princes happinesse and
countreys good. Dulcippas father (as thou knowest)
dwells about three miles from my pallace, unto whose
house I will this day send Dulcippa about such businesse

TOM A LINCOLNE. 275

as I thinkebest, when thou shalt be appointed, and none
but thou to conduct her thither ; where in a thick and
bushy grove, which standeth directly in the midway,
thou shalt give her the cup of death, and so rid my
heart from suspicious thoughts.

This bloody practice being pronounced by the em-
presse, caused such a terrour to enter into the doctors
minde that hee trembled forth this sorrowfull com-
plaint.

Oh you immortall powers of heaven, you giver of my
haplesse fortunes, why have you thus ordayned mee to
be the bloody murderer of a chast and vertuous lady, and
the true patterne of sobriety ; whose untimely overthrow
if I should but once conspire, Dianas nymphes would
turne their wonted natures and staine their hands with
my accursed blood. Therefore most glorious empresse
cease your determination for my heart will not suffer
my hand to commit so foul a villany.

And wilt thou not doe it then (replied the empresse
with a minde fraught with rage and blood) : I do pro-
test (quoth shee) by heavens bright majestie, except
thou dost consent to accomplish my intent, thy head
shall warrant this my secresie.

Stand not on termes, my resolute attempt is cleane
impatient of objections.

The doctor hearing her resolution, and that nothing
but Dulcippas death might satisfie her wrath, hee
consented to her request, (and purposed cunningly to
dissemble with the bloody queue) who believed that hee

276 TOM A. LINCOLKE.

would performe what shoe so much desired : so depart-
ing out of her chamber, shee went to the guiltlesse
lady sending her on this fatall message ; who like to
hapless Bellerophon was ready to carry an embassage of
her owne death. But in the meane time the doctor
harboured in his brest a world of bitter woes, to thinke
how vilely this virtuous lady was betrayed ; and consi-
dering in his minde how that he was forced by constraint
to performe this tragedy ; therefore hee purposed not to
give her a cup of poyson, but a sleeping drinke, to cast
her into a trance, which shee should as a cup of death
receive : as well to try her virtuous constancie as to rid
himselfe from so hainous a crime.

But now returne wee to Dulcippa, who being sped
of her message, went with the doctor walking on the
way, whore all the talke which they had was of the
liberall praise of Prince Valentine, who remained in
court, little mistrusting what had happened to his
beloved lady, and shee likewise ignorant of the hurt that
was pretended against her life ; but being both alone
together in the wood, where nothing was heard but
chirping birds, which with their voices seemed to
mourne at the ladies misfortune. But now the doctor
breaking off their former talke, tooke occasion to speake
as followeth :

Man of all creatures (most virtuous lady) is most
miserable, for nature hath ordained to every bird a
pleasant tune, to bemoane their mishaps, the nightingale
doth complaine her rape and lost virginity within the

TOM A LINCOLNE. 277

desart groves ; the swanne doth likewise sing a dolefull
heavie tune awhile before shee dies, as though heaven
had inspired her with some foreknowledge of things to
come. You madam now must sing your swan-like
song ; for the pretty birds (I see) doe droope their
hanging heads, and mourne to thinke that you must die.
Marvaile not madame, the angry queene will have it so ;
accurst am I in being constrayned to bee the bloody
instrument of so tyrannous a fact. Accurst am I that
have ordained that cup, which must by poyson stanch
the thirst of the bloody empresse ; and most accurst am
I that cannot withstand the angry fates, which have
appointed mee, to offer violence unto virtue. And in
speaking these words hee delivered the cup into the
ladies hands ; who like a lambe that was led to the
slaughter, used silence for her excuse. Many times lift
shee up her eyes towards the sacred throne of heaven,
as though the Gods had sent downe vengeance upon
her guiltlesse soule, and at last breathed forth these
sorrowfull lamentations :

Never (quoth shee) shall vertue stoope to vice.
Never shall death affright my soule, nor never poyson
quench that lasting love, which my true heart doth
beare to princely Valentine ; whose spirit (I hope) shall
meet mee in the joyfull fields of Elizium, to call those
ghosts, that dyed for faithfull love, to beare mee wit-
nesse of my faith and loyalty ; and so taking the cup
she said ; come, come, thou most blessed cup, wherein
is contained that happy drinke which gives rest to

872 TOM A. LINCOLNE.

troubled minds. And thou most blessed wood, beare
witnesse that I mixe this baneful! drinke with teares
distilling from my bleeding heart. These lips of mine
that had wont to kisse Prince Valentine shall now most
willingly kisse this ground, that must receive my corse.
The author of my death He blesse ; for she honours mee
in that I die for my sweet Valentines sake. And now
doctor to thee (being the instrument of this my death)
I doe bequeath all earthly happinesse : and here withall
I drinke to Valentines good fortune : so drinking of the
sleeping potion shee was presently cast into a trance,
which shee poore lady supposed death. The doctor
greatly admiring at her virtuous mind, erected her body
against an aged oake, where he left her sleeping, and
with all speed returned to the hatefull queene, and told
her that he had performed her majesties command ; who
gave him many thanks, and promised to requite his
secresie with a large recompense.

But now speak e we againe of Prince Valentine, who
had intelligence, how the onely comfort of his heart had
ended her dayes by poysons violence, for which cause,
he leaves the court, and converted his rich attire to
ruthfull roabes ; his costly coloured garments, to a
homely russet coat ; and so travelling to the solitary
woods, he vowed to spend the rest of his dayes in a
shepherds life ; his royall sceptre was turned into a
simple sheepehooke, and all his pleasure was to keepe
his sheepe from the teeth of the ravenous wolves.
Three times had glistering Phoebe renewed her

TOM A LItfCOLNE. 279

horned wings, and decked the elements with her smiling
countenance; three months were passed, three moones
had likewise runne their wonted compasse, before the
Grecian emperour mist his princely sonne, whose want
was no sooner bruted through the cburt,but hee ecchoed
forth this horrour to hiinselfe.

What cursed planet thus indirectly rules my haplesse
course ? or what uncouth dryery fate hath bereaved me
of my princely son ; Jove send downe thy burning
thunder bolts, and strike them dead that be procurers
of his want ; but if (sweet Venus) hee be dead for love,
hover his ghost before mine eyes, that hee may discover
the cause of his afflictions ; but contrariwise, if his life
be finished by the fury ofsomemurtherousminde, then
let my exclamations pierce to the justfull majestie of
heaven, that never sun may shine upon his hated head,
which is the cause of my Valentines decay ; or that the
angry furies may lend me their burning whips, inces-
santly to scourge their purple soules, till my sonnes
wrongs be sufficiently revenged. Thus, or in such a
like franticke humour ranne he up and downe his pal-
lace, till reason pacified his outrageous thoughts, and
by persuasion of his lords, he was brought into his
quiet bed. Mean space, Diana (the queen of Chas-
titie)with a traine of beautiful nymphs, by chance came
through the wood where Dulcippa was left in her trance,
in which place, rousing the thickets in pursuit of a wild
hart, the Queen of Chastity espyed the harmlesse lady,
standing against a tree, and beheld her sweet breath to

280 TOM A LIKCOLNE.

passe through her closed lips, at whose presence the
queene awhile stood wondering at ; but at last with her
sacred hand she awaked her, and withall asked the
cause of her trance, and by what meanes shee came
thither ; which poore awaked lady being amazed both at
her sudden majestie, and the strangenesse of her passed
fortune and distresse, with farre fetcht sighes shee re-
lated what hapned to her in those desart woods. The
heavenly goddess being moved with pitie, with a most
smiling voyce cheered her up, and with a lilly taken
from the ground shee wiped the teares from off Dul-
cippas tender cheeks, which like a river trickled from
her chrystall eyes. This being done, Diana with an
angels voyce, spake unto her as followeth :

Sweet virgin, (for so it seemeth thou art) farre better
would it befit thy happy estate(happy I terme it)having
past so many dangers, to spend the remnant of thy life
amongst my traine of nymphs, whereas springeth nothing
but chastity and purity of life. Dulcippa, though in her
love both firm and constant, yet did she condescend to
dwell with Dianas nymphs; where now instead of
parley with courtly gallants, shee singeth songs, carols,
and roundelay es; instead of pen and ink, wherewith shee
was wont to write love letters, shee exerciseth her bow
and arrowes to kill the swift fat deare ; and her downy
beds are pleasant groves where pretty lambs do graze.

But now returne wee againe to the raging emperour,
who sifted the matter out in such sorte that hee found
the empresse guilty of her sonnes want, and the doctor

TOM A LINCOLWE. 281

to be the instrument of Dulcippas death ; who being
desperat, (like one that utterly detested the cruelty of
the empresse) would not allege that hee had but set the
lady in a trance, but openly confess' d that he had
poyson'd her, and for that fact was willing to offer up
his life, to satisfie the law, therefore the angry emperour
sweares, that nothing shall satisfy his sonnes revenge-
ment but death : and thereupon, straightly commanded
the empresse to be put in prison, and the doctor likewise
to be lockt in a stronge tower ; but yet because shee
was his lawfull wife, anda princesse borne, he something
sought to mitigate the law, that if any one within a
twelvemonth and a day would come and offer himselfe
to combat in her cause against himselfe, which would
be the appealant champion, she should have life ; if not
to be burnt to ashes in sacrifice of his sons death ; all
which was performed as the emperour had commanded.

But now all this while the poor prince lives alone
within the woods, making his complaints to the flocks
of sheepe, and washing their wool with his distressed
teares ; his bed whereon his body rested was turned into
a sunburnt banke,his chair of state covered with grasse;
his musicke the whistling winds ; the rethoricke pitifull
complaints and moanes, wherewith hee bewailed his
passed fortunes, and the bitter crosses of his unhappy
love.

The solitarie place wherein this prince remained was
not farr distant from the grove, where Dulcippa led her
sacred life ; who by chance in a morning at the sunnes

282 TOM A LUrCOLKE.

uprising, attyred in green vestements, bearing in her
hand a bow bended, and a quiver of arrowes hanging at
her backe, with her hayre tyed up in a willow wreath,
lest the bushes should catch her golden tresses to beau-
tifie their branches ; in this manner coming to hunt a
savage hart, shee was surprised by a bloody satyre bent
to rape, who with a bloody mind pursued her ; and
comming to the same place where Prince Valentine fed
bis mourning lambes, hee overtooke her, whereat shee
gave such a terrible shrieke in the wood, that shee stirred
up the shepherds princely mind to rescue her ; but now
when the bloody satyre beheld a face of majesty shrowded
in a shepherds cloathing, immediately he scudded
through thewoods more swift than ever the fearful deare
did run.

But now gentle reader, here stay to reade a while,
and thinke upon the happy meeting of these lovers, for
surely the imagination thereof will lead a golden wit into
the labyrinth of heavenly joyes ; but being breathlesse
in avoyding passed dangers, they could not speake a
word, but with steadfast eyes stood gaping at each
other in the face ; but comming againe to their former
senses, Valentine brake silence with this wavering
speech :

What heavenly wight art thou (quoth hee) which with
thy beautie hath inspired mee ?

I am no goddesse, (replyed shee againe) but a virgin
vowed to keepe Diana company, Dulcippa my name : a
lady sometime in the Grecian court, whilst happy fortune

TOM A LINCOLNE. 283

smiled ; but being crossed in love bere doe I tow to
spend the remnant of my dayes. And with that, hee
catching the word out of her mouth said :

Oh you immortall gods, and is my Dulcippa yet
alive ; I, I, alive, I see shee is, I see that sweet celestiall
beautie in her face, which hath banished deepe sorrow
from my heart ; and with that kissing her, he said ; see
see fairest of all faires that nature ever made, I am thy
Valentine that unhappy love, the Prince of Greece, the
emperoures true sonne, who for thy lovely sake am thus
disguised, and for thy love have left the gallant court
for this sweet and homely country life. With that shee
tooke him about his manly necke and breathed many a
bitter sigh into bis bosome ; and after with weeping
teares discoursed all her passed dangers, as well the
crueltie of the empresse, as of the vertuousdeed of the
good doctor. And having both recounted their passed
fortunes they consented (disguised as they were) to
traVell to the Grecian court to see if the destinies had
transformed the state of the emperour or his regiment ;
for now no longer outcries, nor heavy stratagems or
sorrowfull thoughts sought to pursue them ; but smiling
fortune, gracious delights, and happy blessings. Now
fortune nevermeant to turne her wheele againe to crosse
them with calamities, but intended with her hand to
power into their hearts oyle of lasting peace. Thus
whilst Apolloesbeames did parch the tender twigs, these
two lovers sate still under the branches of a shadie
beech, recounted still their joyes and pleasures ; and

284 TOM A LINCOLNE.

sitting both thus upon a grassy bancke, there came
travelling by them an aged old man, bearing in his
withered hand a staffe to stay his benummed body ;
whose face when Prince Valentine beheld, with a gentle
voyce hee spake unto him in this sort :

Father, God save you ; how hapneth that you wearied
with age, doe travell through the desart groves, befitting
such ascan withstand the checks of fortunes ficklenesse;
come faire old man, sit down by us, whose minds of
late were mangled with griefe, and crost with worldly
cares. This good old hermite hearing the courteous re-
quest of the prince sate downe by them, and in sitting
downe hee trembled forth this speech :

I come (young man) from yonder citie, where as the
emperour holds a heavie court, and makes exceeding
sorrow for the losse of his eldest sonne, and for a lady,
which is likewise absent ; the empresse being found
guilty of their wants is kept close prisoner, and is con-
demned to be burnt unlesse within a twelve moneth and
a day, she can get a champion that will enter battaill in
her cause ; and with a doctor also is adjudged to suffer
death. Great is the sorrow that there is made for this
noble prince, and none but commends his virtue : and
withall the deserved prayses of the absent lady.

Father (replyed then the prince) thou hast told us

tidings full of bitter truth, able to inforce an iron heart

to lament ; for cruell is the doome, and most unnaturall

the emperoure to deale so hardly with his queene.

Nay, (quoth the old man) if shee be guilty I cannot

TOM A LINCOLNE. 285

pitie her, that will cause the ruine of so good a
prince ; for higher powers must give example unto their
subjects.

By lady, father (quoth the princely shepheard) you
can well guesse of matters touching kings ; and to be a
witnesse of this accident, wee will presently goe into
the court, and see what shall betide unto this distressed
queene. This being said, they left the aged man, and so
travailed towards the Grecian court ; and by the way,
these lovers did consult, that Prince Valentine attired
like a shepheard, should offer himselfe to combat in his
mothers cause, and so to expresse the kinde love and
nature which was lodged in his princely breast. But
being no sooner arrived in the court, and seeing his
father to take the combat upon himselfe, presently hee
kneeled downe and like an obedient sonne discovered
himselfe, and withall Dulcippas strange fortunes ;
whereupon the empresse and the doctor were presently
delivered, and did both most willingly consent to joyne
these two lovers in the bands of marriage ; where after
they spent their dayes in peace and happinesse.

This pleasant discourse being ended, which Sir Laun-
celot had told to the exceeding pleasure of the greatest
company, but especially of the Red Bose Knight, who
gave many kind thanks. At this time the winds began to
rise and blow chearfully, by which they sayled on their
journey successfully from one coast to another, till at last
they arrived upon the coasts of Prester Johns Land,
which was in an evening when the day began to lose her

286 TOM A LTNCOLNE.

chrystall mantle, and to give place to the sable garments
of gloomy night, where they cast anchor unseene of
any of that countreys inhabitants.

CHAP. VI.

What happened to the Bed Eose Knight andhiscompany
in the court of Prester John, and how the Bed Bose
Knight slew a dragon with three tongues that kept
a golden tree in the same countrey ; with other
attempts that happened.

The next morning by the breake of day the Bed Bose
Knight arose from his cabbin, and went upon the hatches
of the ship, casting his eyes round about to see if he
could espy some towne or citie where they might take
harbour; and inlookingabout heespyed a great spacious
citie, in the middle whereof stood a most sumptuous
pallace, having many high towers standing in the area,
like the Grecian pyramides, the which hee supposed to
be the pallace of some great potentate ; therefore calling
Sir Lancelot (with two other knights) unto him, he
requested them to goe up into the citie, and to enquire
of the countrey, who was the govournour thereof;
the which thing they promised to doe, so arming them-
selves (as it was convenient, being strangers in that
countrey) they went up into the citie, where they were
presently presented unto Prester John, who, (being
alwayes liberall and courteous unto strangers) gave them
aroyall entertainment, leading them up into his pallace;
and having intelligence that they were Englishmen,

TOM A LIKCOLNB. 287

and adventurous travellers, hee sent foure of bis knights
for the rest of their company, desiring them in the
knights behalfe, to returne to the court, where they
should have a friendly welcome, and a knightly enter-
tainment.

Thus when the Red Eose Knight had understood the
will of Prester John by his foure knights, the next
evening with his whole company hee repayred to the
citie, which was right noble and faire, and although
it was night, yet were the streets as light as though it
had beene mid-day, by the cleare resplendent bright-
nesse of torches, cressetts, and other lights which the
citizens ordayned to the entertaining of the English
knights.

The streets through which they passed to go to the
kings pollace, were filled with people as burgomasters,
knights and gentlemen, with ladies and beautifull dam-
sells, which in comely order stood beholding their
coming. But when the Bed Eose Knight was entred
the pallace he found the renowned Prester John, sitting
upon his princely throne, under propt with pillars of
Jasper stone; who after hee had given them an hon-
ourable welcome, hee tooke the Bed Eose Knight by the
hand and led him up into a large and sumptuous hall,
the richest that ever hee had seen in all his life : but in
going up certaine stayres hee looked in at a window, and
espyed faire Anglitora, the kings daughter sporting
amongst other ladies, which was the fayrest mayd that
ever mortalleye beheld, and I think e that nature herselfe

288 TOM A LINCOLNE.

could not frame her like ; but being entred the hall they
found the tables covered with costly fare ready for
supper : when as the English knights were set at the
kings table in company of Prester John and Anglitora,
with other ladies attending(having good stomachs) they
fed lustily ; but Anglitora, which was placed right over
against theEed Rose Knight,fed onely uponhis beauty
and princely behaviour, not being able to withdraw her
eyes from his divine excellencie ; but the renowned
Prester John for his part spent away the supper time
with many pleasant conferences touching the countrey
of England and King Arthurs princely court, the report
of which, fame had so often sounded in his eares. But
amongst ail other devices hee told the English knights
of a tree of gold, which now grew in his realme, and
yearely brought golden fruit, but hee could not enjoy
the benefit thereof, by reason of a cruell dragon that
continually kept it ; for the conquest of which golden
tree he had many times solemnly proclaymed through
that part of the world, that if any knight durst attempt
to conquer it, and by good fortune bring the adventure
to an end, hee should have in reward thereof, his
daughter, the faire Anglitora in marriage ; to which
many knights resorted, as well of foraigne countrey es as
his own nation, but none proved so fortunate to accom-
plish the wished conquest, but lost their lives in the
same adventure ; therefore I fully believe, if all the
knights in the world were assembled together, yet were
they all unsufncient to overcome that terrible dragon.

TOM A LINCOLNE. 289

With that the Bed Eose Knight with a bold courage
stood up and protested by the love he bore unto his
eountreys king he would performe the enterprise or lose
his life in the attempt ; so in this resolution hee remained
all supper time, which being ended the English knights
were brought into divers chambers ; but amongst the
rest the Red Eose Knight and Sir Launcelot were lodged
neere to the fayre Anglitora, for there was nothing
betwixt their chambers, but a little gallery : into which
being come and no sooner laid in their beds, but the
Bed Eose Knight began to confer with Sir Launcelot in
this manner:

What thinke you (quoth hee) of the enterprise I have
taken in hand ? Is it not a deed of honour and renowne?
Surely (replyed Sir Launcelot) in my judgement it is an
enterprise of death ; for every man in this country ad*
judgeth you overcome and destroyed, if you but once
approach the sight of the dragon ; therefore be advised,
and goe not to this perilous adventure for you can
obtaine nothing thereby but reproach and death ; and
doubtlesse they are counted wise that can shun the mis-
adventures, and keepe themselves from danger.

But then (quoth the Bed Eose Knight) shall I falsifie
my promise, and the promise of a noble minde ought
still to be kept ; therefore ere I will infringe my vow
I have made, I will be devoured by the terrible dragon;
and in speaking these words they feD asleepe.

During which time of their conference, fayre Angli-
tora stood at their chamber doore and heard all that

TOL. II. v

290 TOM A LINCOLNE.

had passed betwixt them, and was so surprised with the
love of this gentle knight, that by no meanes shee could
restraine her affections ; and returning to her chamber
easting herself e upon her bed, thinking to have slept,
but could not, she begun to say secretly to herselfe, this
sorrowfull lamentation :

Alas mine eyes what torment is this you have put
my heart unto ; for I am not the woman that I was wont
to be, for my heart is fired with a flame of amorous de-
sires, and is subject to the love of this gallant English
knight, the beautie of the world, and the glory of
Christendome. But fond foole that I am, wherefore doe
I desire the thing that may not be gotten, for I greatly
feare that he is already betrothed to a lady in his owne
countrey. And furthermore his mind is garnished with
princely cogitations, that I may not enjoy his love ; and
hee thinketh no more of me, then on her that he never
saw. But grantthat hee did set his affection upon me, yet
were it to small purpose, for he is resolved to adventure
his life, in the conquest of the golden tree, where he
will soone be devoured by the terrible dragon. Ah,
what a griefe and sorrow will it be to my heart, when I
shall heare of his untimely death, for hee is the choice
of all nature, the prince of nobilitie, and the flowre of
worship : for I have heard him say, that hee had rather
die honourably in accomplishing his vow, than to returne
with reproach into England. Which happy countrey if
these eyes of mine might but once behold, then were
my soule possessed with terrestriall joyes.

TOM A LINCOLNE. 291

Anglitora with these words fell asleepe, and so passed
the night away till the day came ; who no sooner with
his bright beames glistered against the pallace walls,
but the Red Eose Knight arose from his bed, and armed
himselfe in great courage, ready for the adventure ;
where, after he had taken leave of the king, and all the
rest of his English friends, he departed forth of the
citie towards the golden tree, which stood in a low
valley, some two miles from the kings palace.

This morning was fayre and cleare, and not a cloud
was seene, the elements and the sunne cast his resplen-
dent beams upon the earth ; at which time the ladies
and damsels mounted upon the highest towers in the
pallace, and the common people came up to the battle-
ments and walls of churches, to behold the adventure of
this valiant knight, who as then went most joyfully on
his journey, till he came to the vale of the golden tree,
wherein being no sooner entred, but he beheld a most
terrible and cruell dragon come springing out of his
hollow cave. This dragon was farre more bigger than
a horse, in length full thirtie foot, the which incon-
tinently as soone as hee was out of his cave, began to
raise his necke, set up his eares, and to stretch himselfe,
opened his throate, and casting forth thereat most mon-
strous burning flames of fire : then the Eed Eose Knight
drew out his good sword, and went towards him, whereat
the monster opened his terrible throat, whereout sprang
three tongues, casting forth flaming fire in such sort, *
that it had almost burnt him. The first blow that the

292 TOM A LINCOLltfL

knight strucke, hit the dragon betwixt the two eyes so
furiously that he staggered ; but being recovered, and
feeling himselfe most grievously hurt, he discharged
from his throat such abundance of thick fuming smoake
that it blinded the knight in such sort, that hee saw
nothing : but yet, notwithstanding, hee lifted up his
sword, and discharged it upon the dragon, where hee
imagined his head was, and strucke so furious a blow,
that hee cut off his three tongues close by their roots ;
by which the dragon endured such marveilous paine,
that hee turned his body so suddenly round, that his
tayle smote the valiant knight a mighty blow upon his
backe, whereby he fell downe upon the sands : being
thus overthrowne, hee was in minde most marvellously
ashamed ; but after awhile having recover'd himselfe
hee ran to the dragon againe, and with his good sword
smote such a terrible blow upon his tayle, that it cut it
off in the middle ; the which piece was seven foot in
length. The dragon through the great paine that hee
felt, came and incountered the knight in such a fashion,
that hee beat him downe to the ground, and after stood
over him as though hee had beene dead ; but the knight
tooke his sword, and underneath him thrust it up to the
hilt so farre that it pierced his heart; which when the
dragon felt, as smitten to death, began to run away with,
the sword sticking in his belly, thinking to have hidden
himselfe in his cave, but his life departed before he
could get thither. Incontinently when the Eed Rose
Knight had rested himselfe, and saw that the dragon

TOM A LOTCOLNE. 293

was dead, he recomforted himselfe, and went and drew
out his sword from his belly, which was all to bestained
with his blacke blood, and after tooke the dragons three
tongues and stucke them upon'his sword ; and likewise
pulled a branche from the golden tree, which he bore in
his hand ; and so in triumph went towards the citie, and
being come within the sight thereof, he lifted up the
golden branch into the ayre as high as hee could, that
it might glister in the sunne for the people to behold,
(which stood upon high turrets, expecting his comming,)
who perceiving it with great admiration, began to
wonder. Some there werethat gathered greene herbes
and flowers, and strewed the way, whereas the knight
should passe, to goe to the king's pallace, saying, that
all honour ought to be given to so noble and glorious a
conqueror.

Payre Anglitora amongst all other, was most joyfull,
when shee beheld the glistering brigtnesse of the golden
branch, and commanded her waiting maids to put on
their richest attires, to solemnize the honour of that
excellent victory.

And to conclude he was met at the citie gate, with
the melodie of drums and trumpets, and so conducted to
the kings pallace, where he was right honourably enter-
tained of Prester John and his nobles. Surely there is no
man so eloquent, that can discourse by writing, the great
joy that Anglitora tooke at his returne ; and generally
the whole inhabitants had thereat exceeding pleasure.

But now when the valiant Eed Bose Knight had

294 TOM A LINGOLNE.

•

entred the hall, and had set the golden branch upon an
ivor y cupboard richly furnished with costly plate, the
English knights and many of the ladies began to dance
most joyfully, and to spend the time in delicious sports,
till supper was ready, and then the king and the Eed
Rose Knight was set, and with them the noble and faire
Anglitora, Launcelot du Lake, and other English
knights ; where (all supper while) there was no other
conference holden, but of the valiant encounters of the
Eed Eose Knight, who for his part did nothing but
make secret love signes to faire Anglitora.

What shall I make long circumstances ? The supper
passed, and the houre came that the general! company
withdrew them into their chambers; the Eed Eose
Knight was conducted to his lodging by many noblemen
and others, which brought the golden branch after him,
and so bequeathed him for that night, to his silent rest.
But presently after the noblemens departure, Anglitora
entered into his chamber, bearing in her hand a silver
bason full of warme perfumed waters, the which shee
had provided to wash the dragons blood from his body ;
which when the Eed Hose Knight perceived, and think-
ing upon the kind love shee proffered him, put off his
clothes, and made himselfe ready to wash. Faire Angli-
tora being attired in a white frocke without sleeves,
turned up her smocke above her elbows, and so with her
owne hands washed the body of the Eed Eose Knight.

But now when this gentle bachelor beheld her lovely
body, her faire and round breasts, the whitenesse of her

TOM A LINCOLNE. 295

flesh, and that hee felt her hands marvellous soft, hee
was so much inflamed with the ardent desire of love,
that in beholding her beauty, he began to embrace her,
and kissed her many times most courteously ; and so
after when hee had beene well washed, Anglitora caused
him to lie in his bed, beholding his well formed limbes,
of colour faire and quicke, and could not turne her eyes
from his sight : thus as they were beholding each other
without speaking any word, at last the noble knight
spake to her in this manner :

Most deare lady, you know that by this conquest I
have deserved to be your husband, and you, through
kind love, to be wife ; whereby I may say that you are
mine, and I am yours : and of our two bodies there is
but one. Therefore I require you to seale up the first
quittance of our loves, which is, that wee two for this
night might sleepe together ; and so accomplish the
great pleasure that I have so long wished for.

Ah most noble knight (answered the faire lady)
what in mee lyeth (that may bring you the least motion
of content) shall with all willingnesse be performed ;
but yet I conjure you by the promise of knighthood,
that you will save mine honour, lest I be made a
scandall to my fathers glory.

There is no man in the world (quoth he) that shall
preserve thine honour more than I. What if you sleepe
this night with me in bed, doe you any more than your
dutie, in that I am your husband, and best beloved
friend.

296 TOM X LINCOLKE.

My deare love (replyed shee againe) there is no
pleasure I will deny yee ; but for this night you shall
have patience ; for I will nev^r yield up the pride of
my virginity till my father hath given me in marriage ;
and therefore I desire you, that to-morrow you will
request that favour at his hands ; which being granted
and performed then accomplish your content.

When the Bed Rose Knight had understood his
ladies mind, hee like an honourable gentleman was
content to obey her request. What shall I say more?
but that the night drew on to the wonted time of sleepe,

mi

which caused these two lovers (for the time) to breake
off company. Here slept the Bed Rose Knight till the
next morning, which at the breake of day was presented
with a consort of musicke, which the king himselfe
brought into his chamber. Their melody so highly de-
lighted his minde, that hee threw them a gold chaine,
which was wrapped about his wrist ; a gift plainly ex-
pressing the bounty that beautified his princely breast.
The musicians being departed, hee arose from his rich
bed, and went unto the king, whom hee found as then
walking in a pleasant garden ; of whom hee required his
daughter in marriage, in recompence of his adventure ;
the which request so displeased the king, that all his
former courtesies was exchanged into sodaine sorrow,
and would by no means consent that Anglitora should
be his betrothed spouse ; and answered, that first hee
would lose his kingdome, before shee should be the
wife of a wandring knight.

TOM A LINCOLNE. 297

The noble Bed Rose Knight when he understood the
unkind answer of Prester John, (all abashed) went unto
Sir Launcelot and his other friends, and certified them
of all things that had happened, who counselled him
that the next morning they should depart.

After this they went to the king and thanked him for
the high honour hee had graced them with ; and after
that, went and. visited their ship, where for that day
they passed the time in pleasure ; and so when the
scouling night approached, the Bed Bose Knight went
to the faire Anglitora, and certified her of the unkind
answere of her cruell father, whereat shee grew sor-
rowfull, and greived in mind ; but at last better consi-
dering with herselfe, shee yeilded her fortune fully at
his pleasure, promising that for his love shee would
forsake both country, parents, and friends, and follow
him to what place soever hee pleased to conduct her.
And it is to be supposed that this night the faire Angli-
tora tooke all the richest Jewells that shee had, and
trussed them in a fardle ; and so when it was a little
before day, shee came unto the Bed Bose Knight and
awaked him, who presently made him ready, and so
departed secretly from his chamber, till they came to
their ships, where they found all the rest of the English
knights ready to depart. So when they were all aboord
they hoisted sayle, and departed from the port. To whose
happy journey wee will now leave them for a time, and
speake of the discontents of Prester John, who all that
night, was exceeding sorrowfull for the unkind answere

298 TOM A LIffCOLNE.

which hee had given to the Eed Eose Knight, and so
melancholy that hee could neither sleepe nor rest ; but
at the last hee concluded with himselfe, that; hee would
goe and convey the English knights (at their departing)
unto their ships; to the end that being in other countries
they might applaud his courtesies used to strangers.

So in the morning hee arose and went to the chamber
where the Eed Eose Knight was lodged, whom hee
found departed contrary to his expectation. After that
hee went into his daughters chamber, where he found
nothing but relentlesse walls, which in vaine hee might
speak e unto ; whose absence drove him into such a
desperate mind, that hee suddenly ran to the sea coasts,
where hee found many of his citizens, that shewed him
the ships wherein the English knights were, which was
at that time from the port or haven more then halfe a
mile. Then the king (weeping tenderly) demanded of
them if they had seene his daughter Anglitora ? to
whom they answered that they had seene her upon the
ship hatches in company of the Eed Eose Knight. At
which the king bitterly lamented, beating his brest, and
tearing his milke white haire from his head, using such
violence against himselfe that it greatly greived the
beholders.

At that time there was many of his lords present,
who by gentle persuasions withdrew him from the sea
coasts to his pallace, where he many dayes after la-
mented the disobedient flight of his daughter.

TOM A LINCOLNE. 209

CHAP. VII.

How Caelia the Queene of the Eayrie Land was found
dead noting upon the waves of the sea ; with other
things that happened to the English knights.

Mast dayes the windes blew cheerfully in such sort
that the English ships were within kenning of the Fayrie
Land ; at which Sir Launcelot took an occasion to
speake unto the Bed Rose Knight, and put him in
remembrance how hee had promised Cffilia to returne
into her countrey, unto which hee answered and sayd,
that hee would keepe promise if the destinies did afford
him life. And there upon commanded the master pilot
to make thither ward ; but the windes not being willing
raised such a tempest on the sea that the ship was cast
a contrary way, and the mariners by no meanes possible
could approach the Fayrie Land. At which time the
noble Queene Cselia stood by the sea side, upon a high
rocke beholding the English ship as it passed by, as her
usuall manner was, every day standing expecting her
deare lords returne, many times making this bitter
lamentation to herselfe :

Ah gentle Neptune thou god of seas and windes,
where is my desired love? brmghimagaineuntomee^that
day and night doe weepe for his company. Thus shee
complained at the same instant when her lovers ship
sayled by ; for surely shee knew it by the banners and
ensignes which were displayed in the winde ; but when
the poore lady perceived the ship toturne from her, shee

300 TOM A LTJTCOLKE.

was sore abashed and dismayed. Instead of joy shee
was forced to weepe teares; and instead of singing was
constrained to make sorrowfull complaints. In this
manner shee abode there all that ensuing night, and
caused fires and great lights to be made on the shore,
thinking thereby to call the Bed Rose Knight unto her.
This order kept shee every day and night for the
space of six weekes, wayling.the want of him, whom
shee loved more deare than her own heart ; but when
the six weekes were past, and that the Eayrie Queene
perceived that shee should have no tydings of her love,
shee went from the rockes (all in despaire) into her
chamber ; where being entred shee caused her sonne to
be brought unto her, whom shee kissed many times, for
the love shee bore unto his father ; and after beholding
the little infant crossing her armes, with a sigh com-
ming from the bottome of her heart, she sayd ; Alas my
deare sonne, alasse thou canst not speake to demand
tydings of thy father, which is the bravest knight, the
most vertuous and the most valiant in armes that God
«ver formed. Oh where is nature (sweete babe) that
should enjoyne thee to weepe, and myselfe more than
thee, for the losse of so brave a prince; whose face I
never more shall see ! Oh cruell and unkind fortune !
my heart hath concluded that I goe and cast myselfe
headlong into the sea, to the intent that if the noble
knight bee there buryed, I may lye in the same sepul-
cher or tombe with him ; where contrariwise if hee bee
not dead, that the same sea that brought him hither

fc.

TOM A LIXGOLNE. 301

alive, bring me to him being dead. And to conclude,
before I commit this desperate murder upon myselfe,
with my blood I will write a letter, which shall be sewed
to my vestements or attire, to the intent that if ever my
body bee presented to the Bed Rose Knight, that then
this bloody letter may witnesse the true love that I bore
him, to the houre of my death.

Many ladies and damosells were in her company
whilst thus shee lamented her knights absence ; who
hearing of her desperate intended death, made exceed-
ing sorrow. Some there were that so mightily grieved
that they could not speake one word ; other some there
were that sought to persuade her from that desperate
intent ; but all in vaine : for shee presently went from
them, and with her owne blood writ a letter and wrapped
it in a sear-cloth, and then sewed it to the vestures,
wherein shee was clothed : then taking her crowne, shee
bound it from her head with a golden chaine, which the
Bed Bose Knight before time had given her. Then
when shee had done all this, shee came to her little
sonne and many times kissed him, and so delivered him
to the ladies and damselles to be nourished : and so
after taking leave of them all she departed toward the
sea, whither being come, she went to the top of the high
rocke, where shee began to looke downe upon the sea,
and after casting herselfe upon the earth, looking up
towards heaven shee sayd :

Thou G-od of my fortunes, Lord of the windes and
seas, thou that broughtest into this countrey the right

302 TOM A LINCOLKE.

perfect knight, in beauty, manhood, and all vertues,
grant that when my soule hath made passage out of this
world, my body may be intombed in his bosom ; which
words being sayd, shee turned her eyes towards her
pallace, and spake with a high voyce : Adieu my dear
babe, adieu you glistning towers, my royall pallace ;
adieu ladies and damsels, and lastly adieu to all the
world. And in saying so, shee cast herselfe into the
sea, and there desperately drowned herselfe.

But yet such was her fortune, that the waves of the
sea, bore her dead body, the same day to the English
knights ship, which as then lay in a road, where they had
cast anchor, for to rest that night, and to be'short, it so
hapned at the same houre when her dead body was cast
against the ship, the Red Rose Knight went up the
hatches to take the fresh ayre ; where looking about he
espied the dead lady richly attyred in cloth of gold, that
gorgiously shone in the water, the which he presently
caused to be taken up and brought into the ship ; where
looking wishly upon her hee knew her perfectly well ;
and after stooping to kisse her pale lips, hee found a
bloody letter, which shee had compiled, wrapt in seare-
cloth : so taking it and reading the contents thereof, his
blood began to change, and to waxe red like the rose,
and presently againe as pale as ashes. Whereat Sir .
Lancelot and the other knights were greatly abashed ;
but especially Anglitora, who demanded the cause of his
griefe. Whereunto the Red Rose Knight was not able
to answer a word, the sorrow of his heart so exceeded ;

TOM A LIKCOLNE. 303

yet notwithstanding he delivered the bloody letter to
Anglitora, the contents whereof are these that follow :

The Bloody Letter of Queen Cselia.

Thou bright star of Europe, thou chosen of England,
for prowesse and beauty, when wilt thou returne to
fullfill thy promise made unto her, that many a day hath
had her eyes planted upon the seas after thee, shedding
more teares in thy absence, than the Heavens containe
starres ? Ah, my dearelove, makest thou no reckoning,
nor account of thy promise that thou madest to mee at
thy departure ? Knowest thou not that every noble
mind is bound to keepe his word, upon paine of reproach
and shame ? but thou hast infringed it, and hast broken
thy oath of knighthood, which no excuse can recover.
For since I last saw thy ship noting on the seas, I never
came within my pallace, till the writing hereof, nor
never lay me in my bed to take my rest, nor never sate
in judgement on my countreys causes ; but for the space
of forty dayes I stood upon a rocke expecting thy re-
turne, till famine constrained me to depart. There have
I stood day and night, in raine and in snow, in the cold
of the morning, and in the heat of the sunne; in fasting,
in prayers, in desires, in hopes ; and finally, languishing
in despaire and death : where, when I could heare no
newes of thy returne, I desperately cast myselfe into
the sea, desiring the gods that they would bring mee
either alive or dead to thy presence, to expresse the true
affection that I have ever borne thy noble persone : thus

304 TOM A LINCOLNB.

fare thou well. From her that lived and dyed with an
unspotted minde •

Thine owne true lover, till we meet

in the Elyzian Fields ; thy unhappy Caelia,
Queene of the Fayrie Land.

Thus when faire Anglitora had read those bloody
lines, she greatly lamented her unhappy death : and
withall, requested the Red Rose Knight, in that she
dyed for his sake, to beare her body into England, and
there most honourably intombe it : to which he most
willingly consented. So causing her body to be imbalm-
ed, they hoysted sayle, and departed towards England ;
unto which country, they within foure months safely
arrived. At whose comming t he-inhabitant sand dwellers
greatly rejoyced, but chiefly the Red Rose Knight and
his company, who at their first arrivall, kneeled downe
upon the earth, and'gave God thanks for preserving them
from so many dangers and perils, to their high re-
nowne ; and triumphant victories.

After this, they intombed the body of Caelia most
honourably as befitted a princesse of her calling. This
being done, they departed toward Pendragon Castle,
standing in Wales, where as then King Arthur kept his
royall court : where being arived, they found the king,
and many other nobles in a readines to give them a
princely welcome : amongst whom was fayre Angellica
the nun of Lincolne, mother to the Red Rose Knight ;
yet kept in so secret a manner, that neither he, nor she,

TOM A LINCOLNE. 305

had any suspition thereof, but spake one to another as
meere strangers : The discovery of whom is discussed at
large in the second part of this historic : as likewise the
strange fortune of Caelias little sonne, which the ladies
in the Eayrie Land called by the name of the Fayrie
Knight ; and by what meanes he came to be called the
"Worlds Triumph: with many other strange accidents, &c.
But now (to conclude this first part) the Eed Rose
"Knight and thefaire Anglitora were solemnely married
together, and lived long time in King Arthurs court, in
great joy, tranquilities and peace.

vol. u.

THE SECOND PAET

OF THE

FAMOUS HISTORIE

OF

TOM A LINCOLNE,

C&e &rt ftose Jim'gfjt ;

Wherein is declared his unfortunate Death, his Ladies Dis«

loyaltie, his Childrens Honours, and lastly his Death

most strangely revenged.

Written by the first Author.

LONDON :
PRINTED BY A. M.

1635.

TO THE READER

Promise is debt (gentle Reader) =1 have therefore performed

what in my first part I promised ; which was to shew thee the

unfortunate death of the Red Rose Knight, his beloved Lady

Anglitora's disloyall affection towards him, his Childrens

Honours, Renownes, and Dignities ; and in the period of this

Historic his death both justly, truly and strangely revenged.

The Reading of which (if with good consideration) I doubt not

but shall bring unto thee much pleasure and delight, being (for

the quantity, thereof) nothing inferiour to the best that hath been

written of the like subject, (I mean) of Knights adventures and

Ladies beloved. I therefore dedicate this to thy reason, knowing

that this old Proverbe may confirme my expectation, which is,

That good Wine needs no Bush ; nor a pleasing History craues
no shelter. Farewell.

R. J.

THE SECOND PART OP THE FAMOUS HISTORY

OF TOM A LINCOLNE, THE RED

ROSE KNIGHT, &c.

CHAP. I.

How Tom a Lincolne knew not his mother till forty
yeares of his age nor whose son he was : Of King
Arthur's death, and his dying speeches, and what
hapned thereupon.

"When Arthur, that renowned King of England,
(being one of the Nine Worthies of the World,) had by
twelve severall set battailys, conquered the third part
of the earth, and being wearyed with the exploytes of
martiall adventures, in his old dayes betooke himselfe to
a quiet course of life, turning his warlike habiliaments
to divine bookes of celestiall meditations ; that as the
one had made him famous in this world, so might the
other make him blessed in the world to come. Seven
yeares continued quiet thoughts in his brest ; seven
yeares never heard hee the sound of delightful! drummes;
nor in seven yeares beheld he his thrice worthy Knights
of the Bound Table, flourishing in his Court ; by which

312 TOM A LIKCOLKE.

meanes his pallace grew disfurnished of those martiall
troopes that drew commendations from all forraigne
kingdomes. In this time most of those renowned
champions had yielded their lives to the conquering
tyranny of pale Death, and in the bowells of the earth
lay sleeping their eternall sleepes ; the royall king him-
selfe laden with the honour of many yeares, and having
now (according to nature) the burthen of death lying
heavie upon his shoulders, and the stroke lifted up to
divide his body from his soule, hee called before him all
the chiefest of his Court, but especially his owne
Queene, the Bed Eose Knight, and his Lady Anglitora,
with the faire Angelica, the Nunne of Lincolne, whom
hee had so many yeares secretly loved ; and being at the
point to bid a woful farewell to the world, with counte-
nance as majesticall as King Priam of Troy, he spake as
followeth :

First, to thee my loved Queene, must I utter the
secrets of my very soule, and what wanton escapes I
have made from my nuptiall bed, otherwise cannot this
my labouring life depart from my fading body in quiet ;
long have I lived in the delightful sin of adultery, and
polluted our marriage bed with that vile pleasure, par-
don, I beseech thee, and with that forgivenesse (which
I hope will proceed from thy gentle heart,) wash away
this long bred evil, the celestiall powers have granted
me remission. Then turning to Angelica, the Nunne
of Lincolne, he said,

Oh, thou my youth's delight, thou whose love hath

TOM A LrffCOMTE. 313

t

bereaved my queene of such marriage pleasure, thou,

and but only thou, have I offended withall ; therefore,

divine Angelica, forgive me : I, like a ravisher, spotted

thy virginity, I cropt thy sweet body of chastity, I with

flattery won thy heart, and led thee from thy father's

house, (the great Earl of London) to feede my wanton

\ desires ; by thee had I a sonne, of whom both thou and

\ I take glory of, for in his worthiness remains the true

\ image of a martialist, and this renowned Knight of the

\ Red Rose is he : hee lives : the fruit of our wanton

J pleasures born at Lincoln, and there by a shepherd

/ brought up, few knowing (till now) his true parents.

/ Marvaile not, dear sonne, thinke not amisse sweet

Queen, nor thou my lovely Angelica : Be not dismayed

you honorable states here attending my dying hour,

for as I hope presently to enter Elysium Paradise, and

weare the crowne of desertful glory, I have revealed

the long secrets of my heart, andtruely brought to light

those things that the darkness of oblivion hath covered.

Now the mother knows her son, the son the mother.

Now may this valiant knight boast of his pedigree, and

a quiet content satisfie all your doubts. Thus have I

spoke my mind, and thus quieted, my soul bids the

world farewell. Adue, faire queene, adue deare son,

farewell lovely Angelica ; Lords and Ladies adue unto

you all, you have seene my life, so now behold my

death ; as kings doe live, so kings must die. These were

the last of King Arthur's words ; and being dead, his

death not half so amazed the standers by, as the

strange speeches at his life's farewell.

314 TOM A LIN0OL1TE.

The Queene in a raging jealousie fretted at her
marriage wrongs, protested in her heart to be revenged
upon the Nun of Linoolne.

The Nun of Lincolne seeing her wantonnesse dis-
covered, tooke more griefe thereat than joy in the find-
ing of her long lost son 5 supposing now that (the king
being gone) she should be made a scandall to the
world.

The Bed Eose Knight knowing himself to be begot
in wantonnesse, and borne a bastard, tooke small joy
in the knowledge of his mother.

Anglitora (Tom a Lincoln's wife,) exceeded all the
rest in sorrow, bitterly sobbing to her selfe, and in heart
making great lamentation, in that she had forsaken
father, mother, friends, acquaintance, and country, all
for the love of a bastard, bred in the womb of a shame-
lesse strumpet, therefore she purposed to give him the
slip, and with her owne sonne (a young gallant knight,
named the Black Knight, in courage like his father,)
to travell towards the kingdom of Prester John, where
she first breathed life, and her father reigned.

In this melancholy humour spent they many dayes
troubling their braines with divers imaginations. The
Court which before rung with delights, and flourished in
gallant sort, now thundred with complaints ; every one
disliking his owne estate. Discontent, as a proud com-
mander, governed over them, and their attendants were
idle fancies and disquiet thoughts ; and to speak truth,
such a confused court was seldome seene in the land,
for no sooner was King Arthur's funerall solemnized,

TOM A LIKOOLNE. 315

but the whole troopes of Lords, Knights, and Gentle-
men, Ladies and others, were (like to a splitted ship
tome by the tempest of the sea) severed, every one de-
parted whither his fancie best pleased.

The Bed Bose Knight conducted his mother Angelica
to a cloyster in Lincolne, which place she had so often
polluted with her shame, there to spend the remnant of
her life in repentance and with her true lamentations,
to wash away her black spots of sinne that so grievously
stainethher soule, who from a pure virgin made herself
a desolute strumpet.

Likewise King Arthurs widdowed queene, like to
ireful Hecuba or the jealous Juno, kept her chamber for
many dayes, pondering in her minde what revenge she
might take upon Angelica her husbands late favorite.

On the other side Anglitora, lady and wife to the Bed
Bose Knight with her son the Black Knight, made pro-
vision for their departure towards the land of Prester
John, where she was born ; so upon a night when neither
moone nor starlight appeared they secretly departed the
court only attended on bya negar or black-more : a slave
fitting to provide them necessaries and to carry their
apparel and jewels after them, whereof they had abun-
dant store. The Blacke Knight her son (so called rather
by fierce courage than his blacke complexion) was all
fired with the desire that he had to see his grandsire
Prester John, therefore without takingleave of his father
(being then absent in the company of his lewd grand-
mother) with noble spirit conducted his mother to the

316 TOM A LINCOLNE.

sea side, where a ship was ready then to hoist sayle,
where of the pilots they were most willingly received for
passengers. And in this manner departed they the land,
the Black Knight wore on his helmet for a scutcheon
a black raven feeding on dead men's flesh, his caparisons
were all of velvet embroidered which most lively figured
forth the blacke furie lodged in his princely bosome.
Anglitora his mother had the attyre of an amazon, made
all of the best Arabian silke, coloured like the change-
able hue of the raine-bow : about her neck hung a Jewell
of a wonderful value, which was a diamond cut in the
fashion of a heart split asunder with a Turkish semitar,
betokening a doubt that she had of her knights loyalty.
The slavish Moore that attended them, went all naked,
except a shadow of greene taffeta which covered his
privy parts, upon his foot a Morischo shoe, which is
nothing but a soale made of an asses hide, buckled with
small leathers to his insteps, upon his head he wore a
wreath of cypress gilded with pure gold, and a plate of
brass about his neck close locked, with the word ( Bond-
slave* engraven about it. In this manner passed they the
seas, and was by these strange habits wondered at in all
countries where they came. In which travels we will
leave them for a time and speak of other things perti-
nent to our story.

TOM A LINCOLtfE. 317

CHAP. II.

Of Tom a Lincolne's strange manner of travelling, his
wofull departure from England, and of his sorrowfull
lamentations for the unkindnesse of his Lady.

"When Tom a Lincolne the Red Eose Knight had spent
some two months in the company of his mother at Lin-
colne, giving her as much comfort as a sonne might, hee
left her very penitent for her lives amisse, and returned
to the court where he left both his wife and her sonne,
the BlackeKnight, thinking at his arrivall to find so joy-
ful a welcome, and so courtious an entertainment, that
all the blacke clouds of discontent might be blowne
over by their happy meeting : but as ill chance had
allotted, all things fell out contrary to all expectation,
for hee neither found wife, child, servant, nor any one
to make him answer : his plate and treasure was dimi-
nished, his household furniture imbesselled and by
thieves violently carried away, he had not so much as
one steed left in his stable, for them the queene had
seazed on for her use : and furthermore (by her com-
mandment) a decree was made that whomsoever in all
the land shewed him any or gave him but homely rever-
ence should lose their heads, for shee had entitled him,
" The base borne seed of lust, a strumpets brat, and the
common shame of the dead king.' 9 This was the malice
of King Arthurs widow : and surely Queene Juno never
thirsted more for the confusion of Hercules, then shee

313 TOM A

&A for Tom* IJz&2?& overthrow z bet yet this griefe

(bera^ rzst from a pr " ■ »■ ! » feroor to a vnlg— ■ «l i« gi.- »»)

was bat a pleasure to tee sorrow hee tooke for the
of his ladrand souse: ooneici codd hee heave
them, bat that they were lied from the fury of the angry
queene, which was but avameimagmataonlaTdiipantlie
time; but fare otherwise did mischief set in her foot,
the dating minde of his lady Anglitora intended to a
further reach, which was to abandon his presence for
ever, and to thinke him as ominous to her sight as the
killing cockatrice.

The effect of this his wiles suddain dislike shee had
caused (before her departure) to be carved in stone over
the chimney of his lodging, how that shee deserved dam-
nation to leave father, friends, and country, for the dta-
loy all love of a bastard. Of all griefe to him this was
the very spring, the roote, the depth, the height ; which
when hee had read, hee fell into a sound, and had it not
been for two pages that accompanied him he had never
recovered : in this agony the vaines of his breast sprang
out into blood, and aU the parts of his body swate with
griefe : downe fell he then upon his knees, and imme-
diately pulled the ring from his finger, which shee had
given him when they were first betrothed, and wasn't it
with his tears, kissing it a hundred times ; aU that ever
hee had from her did hee wash with the blood that
trickled from his bosome, and after bound them in a
cypresse to his left side, directly where his heart lay,
protesting by that God that created him, and was the

TOM A LIXCOLXE. 319

guide of all his past fortunes,never to take thein thence
till either hee found his lady or ended Ids life. He like-
wise made a solemn vow to heaven never to cut his hair,
never to come in bed, never to weare sho, never to taste
food, but onely bread and water, nor never to take plea-
sure in humanitie, till hee had eased his griefe in the
presence of his dearest Anglitora, and that her love were
reconciled to him.

Being thus strangely resolved hee discharged his
servants and pages, giving them all the wealth that hee
had, and clad himselfe in tann'd sheep skins made close
unto his body, whereby he seemed rather a naked wilde
man bred in the wildernesse then a sensible creature
brought up by civill conversation. Thus bare footed
and hare legged with an ivory staff in his hand, he set
forward to seeke his unkind wife and unnaturallsonne
giving this wofull farewell to his native country.

Oh you celestial powers (quoth hee) wherefore am
I punished for my parents offences ? Why is their secret
sinnes made my public misery P What have I misdone
that my wife resisteth me, and like a discourteous lady
forsakes me, making her absence my present calamity?

Oh thou gracious Queene of Love, I have beene as
loyall a servant in thy pleasures as ever was Hero to
his Leander, or Fyramus to his Thisbe : then what mad-
ding fury like a cruell commander, hath taken possession
of my Anglitora' s heart, and placed infernal conditions,
whereas the pure virtues of modest behaviour had wont
to be harboured : it cannot be otherwise, but the enraged

320 TOM A L1KCOLNE.

qucene, with her unquenchable envie hath driven her
hence, and not only of one heart made two, but of two
seekes to make none ; which is by untimely death, to
worke both our confusions ; therefore proud queene,
farewell : let all the furies haunt thee, and may the
court seeme as hatefull to thy sight, as the torments of
hell fire to a guilty conscience. Ungratefull England
likewise adieu to thee, for all the honours I have brought
into thy bounds, and with the spoyles of foraigne coun-
treys made thee theonely prince of kingdomes. Yet thou
repaiest me with disgrace ; and load'st me with more
contempt, then my never conquered heart can endure.
So kissing the ground with his warine lips that had so
long fostered him, and with many a bitter teare and
deepe sob, like a pilgrim (as I sayd before) hee tooke
leave of his native countrey, and so went to the sea side:
where hee heard of his wife and sonnes departure, after
whom (as soone as the wind conveniently served) he
tooke shipboard: where wee will now likewise leave him
to his fortune upon the sea, and speake of the professed
malice the queene prosecuted against Angelica the
mother of the Bed Rose Knight.

CHAP. III.

Of the "Woftill death of Angellica, mother to the Red

Rose Knight, and of the death of the jealous Queene

and others.

THBbeauttious Angelicabeing left by hersonne the Red

Rose Knight (at his departure) in a monastery at Lin-

TOM A LINCOLNE. 321

colne, there to bewaile ber former offences ; and for her
y oiiths pleasure in age to taste the bitter food of sorrow :
the day time shee spent in grieved passions, the night
shee wasted with heart breaking sobs ; she fed on care-
full thoughts, her drinke was streames of salt tears ; her
companions thoughts of her passed wanton pleasures ;
her bed no better than the cold earth : her sleeps were
few, but her comforts lesse ; her continuall exercise was
with a needle to worke in silke, upon the hangings of
her chamber, how shee was first wooed then wonne to
King Arthurs pleasures, in what manner their meetings
were, their wanton dalliances, his embraces, her smiles;
his princely gifts, her courteous acceptance ; and lastly
the birth of her thrice worthy sonne, his bringing up,
his honours in the court, and his strange discovery ; all
which shee had wrought as an arras worke, with silke of
diverse colours, in a piece of the purest Hollande cloth.
In doing this twice had the golden sunne runne his
circumference round the worlde, twice had the pleasant
spring beautified the earth with her changeable mantles,
twice had nipping winter made the fields barren, and
the woods leaflesse, and twice had the yeare shewn him-
selfe to all mankinde ; in which time of twice twelve
months, every day made shee a sorrowfull complaint for
the wrack of honour, and her virginities losse which shee
so willingly surrendered ; and in this so greatly had
sorrow and griefe changed her, that her eyes (which
had wont like twinckling diamonds to give light to atf
affections) were now sunke into their cells, and seemed

VOL. II. . Y

322 TOM A LINCOLtfE.

like a hollow sepulchre new opened ; her face wherein
beautie herselfe dwelt, and her cheeks the true die of
the lOlie and the rose intermixt, now appeared old and
writhen, like to the countenance of Hecuba when her
husband King Priamus and his princely children were
slaine at Troys destruction : and her tresses of gold like
hayre, which like to Indian wyers hung over her
shoulders, were now growne more white then thistle
downe, the isickles of frozen ice, or the white moun-
tains snow ; all these griefes of nature had not age
changed, but the inward griefe of her carefull heart.

But now marke the wofull change that hapned, even
upon the day, which by computation shee had in former
times yielded up her maydens pride, and lost that je well
that kingdomes cannot recover ; upon that haplesse day
came there a messenger from the queene to bid her make
preparation for death, for on that day should be her
lives end, and her fortunes period, which shee most wil-
lingly accepted of, and tooke more joy thereat than to
be invited to a princely banquet.

Be not dismayed (said the messenger) for you shall
have as honourable a death as ever had lady : seven se-
verall instruments of death shall be presented to you for
a choise, and your owne tongue shall give sentence
which of them you will die by ; whereupon this messen-
ger set this sorrowfull lady at a round table, directly in
the middle of a very large room whereinto hee had led
her, hung all about with blacke ; where being placed as
to a banquet, or some solemne dinner of state, there

TOM A LINCOLNE. 323

entred seven Servitours in disguised shapes like unto

murtherers, with seven severall deadly services in dishes

of silver plate. The first brought in fire burning in a

dish if she would, to consume her body to ashes ; the

second brought in a dish a twisted coard, to strangle her

to death ; the third a dish full of deadly poyson, to burst

her body withall ; the fourth a sharpe edg'd rayzor or

knife, to cut her throat ; the fifth an iron wracke to

teare her body into small pieces ; the sixth a dishfull of

live snakes to sting her to death : and the seventh an

impoysoned garment, being worne, that will consume

both flesh and blood. These seven deathfull serviteurs,

having set downe their dishes (the least whereof brings

present death) shee was commanded by the messenger

which of them shee should chose to die withall, and to

make speedy choice ; for hee was sworne to the queene

(on whom hee attended) to see it that day accomplished.

At these his words shee fell presently upon her knees,

and with a courage readier to yield to deaths furie then

to the mercie of the living queene, sayd as followeth.

Oh thou guider of this earthly globe, thou that gavest
my weak nature over unto a wanton life, and from a
virgin chaste, hast made me an infamous strumpet, thou
that sufficedst onely a king in majestie to prevail against
roe, and with the power of greatnesse won me to lewd-
nesse ; for which I am now doomed to a present death,
and forced by violence to bid this tempted world adieu,
inspire me with that happy choice of death, as my soule #
may have an easy passage from my body. First to die

324 TOM A LINCOLNE.

by fire, to an earthly imagination seems terrible, and far
different from nature. Secondly, to die with strangling
coard, were base, and more fitting for robbers, theeves,
and malefactors. Thirdly, to die by deadly poyson were
a death for beasts and wormes, that feed upon the bo-
some of the earth. Fourthly to die by cutting knives
and slicing rayzors, were a death for cattle, fowls, and
fishes, that die for the use of man. Sixtly, by a iron
wracke to end my life, were a barbarous death, and
against man's nature. But seventhly, to die a lingring
death, which is a life consuming by wearing of impoy-
soned garments, (where repentance may still be in com-
pany) will I chuse ; therefore sweet messenger of my
death, doe thy office, attyre me in these robes : and the
manner of my death I beseech thee make knowne unto
the queene : tell her (I pray thee) I forgive her : and may
my death be a quit unto her soule, for my life is to her
eares as the fatal sound of night ravens on the mermaid's
tunes.

Vaine worldnow must Heave thy flatteringinticements,
and instead of thy pomp and glory, must shortly tread
the doleful march of pale death ; and this body that hath
been so pleasing to a prince's eye, must be surrendered up
for wormes to feed upon. Many other words would shee
have spoken, but that the commanding messenger (being
tyed to an houre) caused her to put on the empoysoned
robes, which no sooner came to the warmth of her body
but the good lady after a few bitter sighes and dreadful
gaspes, yielded up the ghost: being (through the

TOM A LINCOLNE. 325

extremitie of the infectious garment) made like to an
anatomie, which they wrapped in seare cloth, and the
next day gave her buriall according to her estate, and
so returned to the enraged queene, keeping then her
court at Pendragon Castle, in Wales, into whose pre-
sence, the messenger was no sooner come, but the angry
queene, beyond all measure being desirous to heare of
Lady Angelica's death, in a rage ran and clasped him
about the middle, saying, Speake Messenger speake, is
the vile strumpet dead ? is the shame of womankinde
tortured ? is my hearts griefe by her death banished my
bosome ? speake, for I am overmasted with doubts.

Most gracious queen (quoth the Messenger) resolve
yourself of her death ; for the cold earth hath enclosed
up her body ; but so patiently took shee her death, that
well might it have moved a tiger's heart to remorse,
for in truth my heart relented at the manner of her
death : never went lambe more gently to the slaughter,
nor never turtle dove was more meeke, than this wof ull
lady at the message of her death ; for the elements
did seeme to mourne, closing their bright beauties up
in black and sable curtaines : and the very flintie walls
(as it were)sweate at the agonie of her death, so gentle,
meeke, and humble tooke shee her death, commending
herselfe unto your majestie, wishing that her death might
be your soules contentment. And could she be so
patient (quoth the queene) that even in death would
wish happinesse to the causers thereof? farewell thou
miracle of womankind. I have been to thee a savage

* * i* <

* : *•* :** i- '*

****** : ** *

***..■»! * * *

* * * * *

326 TOM A LIKCOLTTE.

lionesse ; I was blinded at the report of thy wantonnesse,
else hadst thou been now alive : all my cruelties
against thee I now deeply repent, and for thy deare
hearts blood, by me so rashly spilt, shall bee satisfied
with the lives of many soules. Hereupon shee in a furie
commanded the messengers head to be stricken off, and
the seven servitours to be hanged all at the Court Gate,
and afterwards caused their limbs to be set upon high
pooles, by the common high wayes side, as an example
of her indignation. Never after this houre (such is the
remorse of guiltie conscience) could shee sleepe in quiet,
but strange visions of this lady (as shee thought) seemed
to appeare to her : the least noise that shee heard whis-
pering in the silence of the night, did shee imagine to
be some furie to dragge her to Hell, for the death of this
good lady. The windes (as shee imagined) murmured
forth revenge, the running rivers hummed forth revenge,
the flying Fowles of the Ayre whistled out Revenge ;
yea every thing that made noyse ' (in her conceit) gave
remorse for Revenge : and till that her owne life had
given satisfaction by death, for the ruine of so sweet a
ladies life, no food could do her good, no sleep quiet her
braine, no pleasure content her minde, but despaire
with a terrible countenance, did evermore attend her,
willing her sometime to throw herselfe headlong from
the top of a tower, sometime by poyson to end her dayes,
sometime by drowning, sometime by hanging, sometime
by one thing, sometime by another : but at last in the
middle of the night, having her heart deepely overmas-

TOM A LIKCOLNB. 327

tered by despaire, she tooke a girdle of pure Arabian
silke, which girdle shee first wore on her princely nup-
tiall day when King Arthur married her ; this fatall
girdle shee made a sliding knot of, and therwithall upon
her bed post shee hanged herselfe. Thus blood (you
see) being guiltlesse shed, is quitted againe with blood.

The queene being dead, was not so much pitied of
the people, as the good Lady Angellica, little lamenta-
tion was made for her death; for every one expected the
like untimely ende : but according to the allegiance of
subjects, her noblemen gave her a princely funerall, and
set over her an Iron Tombe, in signification that she had
an iron heart, and flinty conditions.

Here will we leave the dead to their quiet rests, and
returne to the Blacke Knight and his Mother Anglitora,
with the Indian slave that attends them ; for strange
bee the accidents that happen to them in forraigne coun-
treyes; and after we will speak what happened to the
Red Rose Knight lipon the sea.

CHAP. IV.

By what meanes Anglitora became a Curtizan, and how
her Sonne, the Black Knight lost himselfe in a Wil-
dernesse.

The Black Knight his Mother Anglitora and the Black-
amore Slave having happily crossed the seas, and arrived
in a countrey very fertill to see to, replenished with, all
kinds of trees and fruit, yet were there no inhabitants to

328 TOM A LINCOLNE.

find, but onely an Old Castle, built of flint stones, the
turrets whereof were made like the Grecian Pyramides,
square and very high. At this castle gate they knocked
so boldly, (each one careless of all accidents that might
happen) as it ran into the chamber where the knight of
the castle lay; who immediately sent a very lowstatured
dwarfe to see who knocked, and if they were strangers,
to direct them up into his chamber, to take such kind
curtesies as the castle afforded : for indeed hee was a
knight of a bountiful condition, and full of liberality.
The Dwarfe no sooner comming to the gate, and espy-
ing people in such strange disquieted attires, never hav-
ing seene the like before, without speaking one word,
ranne amazedly up to his master, certifying him that a
kinde of people of an unknowne nation was arrived, and
that they seemed rather Angells (in shape) then any
earthly creatures.

The Knight of the Castle hearing this,came down and
met them in a large square court paved with marble
stone where hee kindly gave them entertainment, pro-
mising them both lodging and other needfull things they
were destitute of. The three travellers accepted of his
courtesies, and being long before weather-beaten on the
seas, thought themselves from a deep dungeon of cala-
mities, lifted to the top of all pleasures and prosperitie ;
thus from this paved court, the Knight led them up to
his owne chamber wherein there was a fire made of Ju-
niper wood and frankincense, which smelled very sweet;
the walls were hung about with rich tapestrie, whereon

TOM A LINCOLNE. 329

was writ the story of Troys destruction,the Creation of
Mankind, and the fearful description of the latter day
of Doome ; likewise hung upon the same walls Instru-
ments of all sorts of musicke, with such varietie of other
pleasures, as they had never seene the like.

Now while these weary travellers tooke pleasure in
beholding these things, the good knight caused his
dwarfe, (which was all the servants that- hee kept) to
cover the table made of cypress wood, with a fine
damaske table cloth, and thereon set such delicates as
his castle afforded, which was a piece of a wild boar,
rosted the same morning, with divers other services of
fowles, whereof the countrie had plentie ; their bread
was made of the almonds mixed with goats milke,
(for no corn grew in that soyle) their drinke of
the wild grape likewise mingled with goats milke,
which is in my mind accounted restorative : to this
banquet were the travellers placed, where having good
stomachs, they quickly satisfied hunger, and after
began to chat of their adventures, what dangers they
endured by sea, and how luckily they arrived in that
country, giving the courteous Knight great thanks for
his kindnesse.

On the other side, when the banquet was ended, every
one rising from the table, he took an Orphirian that
hung by, and caused his dwarfe to dance after the sound
thereof; the strings whereof he himself strained with
such curiositie, that it moved much delight, especially
the Lady Anglitora, whose eyes and ears were as atten-
tive to the melodie, as Helens were to the enchanting

330 TOM Jl lincolne.

musicke of the Grecian Paris. In this kind of pleasure
consumed they most part of the day, till the bright sun
began greatly to decline, then the Black Knight in a
courageous spirit, said, Sir Knight (for so you seeme to
bee, by your entertainment of strangers) this carpet
kind of pleasure I like not, it disagrees with my young
desires : the hunting of untamed tygers, the tilts and
tournaments of knights, and the battles of renowned
warriours, is the glory I delight in ; and now, consi-
dering no other adventrous exercise maybe found in this
countrey, but only the hunting of wild beasts, I will
into the forests, and by manhood fetch some wild veni-
son for my mother's supper.

The Knight of the Castle (seeing his resolution) fur-
nished him with a hunting javelin, and so directed him
to the forest, where most plentie of such pleasures were:
God bee his good speed, for we will leave the Blacke
Knight in his exercise, and speake of the wanton affec-
tions of Anglitora, and the Knight of the Castle, that
they cast upon each other: a short tale to make, whereas
two hearts make one thought, the bargaine is soone made.
The Knightof the Castle having not had the presence nor
societie of a woman in seven yeares before, grew as wan-
tonly minded as the Roman Tarquinus, when he ravished
the chaste Lady Lucretia. Onthe other side Anglitora hav-
ing the renowne of disloyaltie, grew so pliable to his de-
sires,that at his pleasure he obtained that love, which in
former times the Red Rose Knight adventured his life
for : she that in former times was accounted the worlds
admiration for constancie, was now the very wonder of

TOM A LINCOLN!. 331

shame, and the byword of modest matrons ; this was the
first daies entrance into these wanton pleasures, which
in all daliance they spent till the sun had lost the sight
of the earth : then expecting the return of the Blacke
Knight from hunting, they sat as demurely as they had
beene the chastest hours in the world ; not a glance of
wantonnesse passed betwixt them, but all modest and
civill behaviours ; in this sort stayed they, attending for
the return of the Blacke Knight, but all in vaine : for
hunting a wild panther in chase, he followed so far in
the unknowne forest that he lost himselfe all that night
travelling to find the way forth, but could not ; sleepe
was to him as meate to a sicke man ; his steps were
nnmberlesse, like the starres of heaven, or the sands of
the sea ; his devises for recoverie little prevailed, the
further he went, the further hee was from returning.
Thus day and night (for many days and nights) spent
hee in these comfortlesse travailes ; no hope cheered his
heart, no comfort bore him company, but his patient
mind : and now at last, when he saw all meanes frustrate
he resolved to live and die in that solitary forrest : his
food he made of the fruits of trees, his drinke of the
cleare running water ; his bed was no better than a heap
of sun burnd mosse; his canopies the azure elements full
of twinkling lights, his curtains a row of thick branched
trees ; the torches to light him to his bed, the starres of
Heaven ; the melodie of musicke to bring him asleepe,
the croakes of ravens or the fearful cries of night owles;
the clocke to tell the houres of the night, were hissing

332 tom a lincolne;

snakes, and toads croaking in foggy grasse : his morn-
ing cocke the cheerefull nightingale, or the creeping
larke ; his companions on the day, were howling wolves,
ravening lions, and the wrathfull hoars ; all (as the
fates had decreed) as gentle to him in fellowship, as
people of a civill government ; for to say truth, time and,
necessity had converted him,to a man of wild conditions;
for his haire was growne long and shaggy, like unto a
satyre : his flesh tanned in the sun as an Indian: the
nailes of his fingers were as the tallents of eagles, wher-
with he could easily climhe the highest trees ; garments
hee had not any, for they were worne out, and as wil-
lingly was he content with nakednesse, as in former
times he was with rich habiliments. Thus lived hee
for seven long yeares in this desolate forest, by which
time he was almost grown out of the favour of a man ;
where for a short time we will leave him, and proceed
to other accidents ; also we will overpasse the lewd lives
of Anglitora and the Knight of the Castle, nor speak as
yet any more of their seven years adultery ; for num-
berlesse were the sinnes committed by them in those
seven yeares, in that accursed castle.

CHAP. V.

How the lied Rose Knight found his Lady, and how he
was most strangely murthered, and buryed in a dung-
hill.

The Blackamore Slave (as youhave heard) attended upon
them like an obedient servant, and shewed all duty and

TOM A LINCOLNE. 333

love, till Anglitora gave her body to the spoile of lust,
and from a vertuous lady, converted herself to a hated
strumpet ; which vile course of life, when the Indian
perceived, hee secretly departed the castle, greatly la-
menting the wrongs of his master, the Eed Rose Knight,
whose noble minde deserved better at her hands. Day
and night travelled the poor slave towards England,
thinking to find his master there, and to reveal that
which he thought hardly would be believed by him ;
weary and opprest with hunger, went he this long jour-
ney ; many provinces he passed thorow, before hee could
learne the way towards England ; and then was hee so
farre from it as at the first, when hee departed from the
castle.

The labouring husbandman grieved not more to see
his corne and cattell taken by theeves, nor the merchant
to heare of his shippes sunke at Bea, then did this Indian
at his vaine travailes and wearisome journeyes to small
purpose, so at last setting forward againe, he came to
the sea side, thinking to heare of some ship to give him
passage over : but alas one crosse falls after another,
one mischiefe comes upon the necke of another : and one
mischance seldome happens alone; so as this true-
hearted negar stood beholding how the billowes of the
sea beat against her bankes, and the whale fishes lay
wallowing in the waves, behold such a tempest suddenly
arose, that by the force thereof the poore slave was cast
into the sea, but by reason of his silken vaile tyed about
his middle, and his great skill in swimming (as most

334 TOM A. LIKCOLNK.

negars be perfect therein) kept himself from drowning :
and as good fortune would the same tempest drove the
weather beaten ship to the same shore, wherein the Red
Rose Knight (his master) was, which ship had beene
seven yeares upon the sea in great extremitie, and be.
fore this tyde could never see land. By that time the
tempest ended, the ship floated to land, wherein was left
but onely the Bed Rose Knight, in his Palmer's weed
(for all the rest were starved up for want of food) who
being weake and feeble, climbed up to the top of the
hatches, where, when he had perceived the negar la-
bouring for life upon the waters, cast out a long coard,
and so saved him : whom when the Bed Hose Knight
saw and perfectly knew, he fell almost into a trance for
joy, supposing his lady and sonne not to be far distant ;
but recovering his former senses he spake as folio weth.
Oh blessed Neptune, hast thou vouchsafed to deliver
me from the depth of thy bowels and cast me on land,
where once againe I may behold my faire Anglitora,
and my deare sonne the Black Knight. These seven
yeares famine endured on the sea, hath beene sweete
pleasure to me, in that the end brings me to my desires.
Full three score of my miserable companions in this
ship, hath death seased upon, and through famine have
eaten one another, making their hungry bowels graves
for the other carcasses ; and though now this belly of
mine (like the canibals) have been glutted with humane
flesh, and this mouth of mine tastedthe blood of man :
yet am I as pittifull as the tender hearted mother for-

TOM A LIKCOLKE. 335

getting her sons offences ; and to my Anglitora will be
as kind, as if never she had trespassed ; nor like the
Grecian Helena, left her married lord : so taking the
blackamore by the hand, he demanded of her welfare
and in what estate his son remained. The true-hearted
negar could hardly speake for griefe, or utter one word
for teares : yet at the last with a wofull sigh hee uttered
forth these heart killing speeches.

Oh my noble master (quoth he) by you from a Pagan
I was made a Christian ; by you from a Heathen nation
without civilitie, I was brought to a land of princely go-
vernment, and by you till my departure, was I main-
tained in good manner ; therefore if I should prove a
perjured slave, and a false varlet towards you, my body
were worthy to bee made foode for hungry fowles of
the ay re, and for the ravening beasts of the fields :
therefore considering now that dutie binds me to it»
I will reveal such wofull chaunces, and such dis-
loyall trickes shewed by your lady, as will make your
heart tremble, your sinews shake, and your haire to
stand upright. Anglitora your lady and wife, hath dis-
honoured your bed, and polluted that sacred chamber
of secresie, which none ought to know but onely you
two ; that marriage vow she made in God's Holy Tem-
ple, hath she infringed, and untyed the knot of nuptiall
promise; in a countrey far from hence, hath shee
wrought this hated crime, in a country unpeopled lives
shee, in a castle wRich is kept by a knight of a wanton
demeanour ; thus live they two in adultery, there live

336 TOM A LINCOLN E.

they secretly sleeping in wantonnesse, and therefore
these seven yeares hath shee made herself the childe of
shame ; all this with extreme griefe doe I unfold, and
with a heart almost kild with sorrow doe I breathe out
the dutie of a Servant : if I have offended, let my death
make amends: for what I speake is truely delivered from
a heart unfained.

All this time of this his sorrowfull discourse, stood
the Eed Rose Knight, in a bitter agonie, like one newly
dropt from the cloudes, not knowing how to take these
discourtesies ; one while purposing to bee revenged, and
with his nailes to teare out the strumpets eyes, another
while bewayling her weake nature, that so easily was
woon to lewdnesse ; but at last taking to him, (the
virtue) patience, he resolved to travell to the castle, and
with his meeke perswasions seeke to win her from her
wickednesse, and to forget, forgive, and cast out of re-
membrance all these her unwomanlike demeanours,
observing the proverbe, that faire meanes sooner winnes
a woman than foule. Thus in company of his true ser-
vant the negar, hee tooke his journey toward the castle ;
where (after foure moneths travell) they arrived ; the
Eed Eose Knight, by the direction of the negar,
knocked, and in his pilgrimes habits, desired meate and
lodging for himselfe and his guide.

The first that opened the gate, was his owne lady, who
immediately, upon the sight of them blushed, as though
some sudden fear© had affrighted hef ; yet dissemblingly
colouring her knowledge of them, she in a charitable

TOM A LlffCOLNE. 337

manner gave them entertainment, and conducted them
to a by roome, at the back side of the castle, into
which place shee sent them (by her dwarfe) victuals
from her owne table, with a command, that the next
morning, they should avoyed, and never more trouble
this place.

This message sent by the dwarfe, much disquieted the
Bed Eose Knight, and drove such amaze into his mind,
that hee grew ignorant what to doe ; and seeing his ap-
pointed time very short to remaine there, he now thought
fit to strike whilst the iron was hot, and to discover what
hee was : so taking the scarfe of jewels and rings tyed to
his left side against his heart (which she knew perfectly
well to be the gifts of her love) and by the dwarfe sent
them her. The which no sooner shee beheld, but
shee openly said to the Knight of the Castle, that their
secret affections were discovered, and her husband in
the habit of a Palmer made abode in her house, con-
ducted thither by the moore, to bring their shame to
light, and to carry her thence to England, there to be
punished for her sinnes. Hereupon the knight and shee
purposed the same night to rid themselves of that feare,
and by some violent death to send the Palmer to his last
abiding. Disquietnesse aitended on all sides for that
day, and every houre seemed ten till night approached,
which at last came, though long lookt for. Then
Anglitora in company of the knight of the castle, like
unto murtherers rose from their beds, even at that houre
of night when mischiefes are acted, when no noyse was

vol. it. z

838 TOM A LINCOLN!!.

heard but the barking of wolves, the howling of dogs,
and the croaking of night owles, all assistance to blacke
actions. In this manner came they into the lodging of the
Palmer, who for wearinesse of his journies most soundly
slept, little dreaming that such cruelty could be lodged
in the bosome of his wedded wife ; one whose love he
had first gained with great danger, and alwaies esteemed
as deare as his owne heart blood. All signes of duty
had shee obscured, not any remembrance had shee of
womanhood ; marriage love was forgotten ; thpir past
joyes were as things never beene ; not any thought of
remorse remained within her, but shee more cruell then
the new delivered beare, or the tyger starved for meat,
by the helpe of the Knight of the Castle, tooke the
Bcarfe of jewelles, (sent her from him the same evening)
and by violence thrust them downe the Palmers throat :
by which meanes they bereaved him of life, and without
any solemnitie due to so brave a man, they buried him
in a dunghill without the gate, not shedding so much as
one teare for his death ; so great was the en vie of this
his spitefull lady. The poor negar they set up to the
middle in the ground so surely fastned, that by any
meanes hee could not stir from thence, where wee will
leave him wishing for death. The Bed Bose Knight or
rather the unhappy Palmer, in his unchristianlike grave,
and the Knight of the Castle with the murtheresse An-
glitora,to their surfetting banquets of sinne,and returne
to the Black Knight, which had lost himselfe in the
woods.

TOM A LINCOLNE. 339

CHAP. VI.

•

How the Blacke Knight being lost in a "Wildernesse be-
came a "Wild Man, how his Fathers Ghost appeared
unto him, and in what manner he slewe his owne
Mother.

By this time the Blacke Knighte grew so naturall a wild-
man, as though he had beene bred in the wildernesse :
for day by day he sported with lions, leopards, tygers,
elephants, unicorns, and such like kind of beasts playing
as familiarly with them as in King Arthurs court hee
had done with gallant gentlemen. But marke how it
happened one daye above another; hee chanced to walke
downe into a valley where he sate himselfe downe by
the rivers side, and in humane complaints bewailed his
owne estate, how being borne of a princely race, de-
scended royally, should thus consume his dayes in savage
sort, amongst wilde beasts, and by no means could
recover his libertie or free himselfe from that solitarie
wildernesse. Being in this distress of mind, a suddaine
feare assayied him, his heart shriveled, his haire stood
upright, the elements seemed to look dimme, a terrible
tempest tore up huge trees, the wilde beasts roared
and gathered on a heape together. Birdes fell liveiesse
from the ayre, the ground as it were trembled, and a
sodaine alteration troubled each thing about him;
in this amaze sate he a good time, marvelling what

340 TOM A LINCOL1TE.

should ensue ; at last there appeared (as he imagined)
the ghost of his father newly murthered, with a coun-
tenance pale and wan, with hollow eyes (or none at all)
gliding up and downe before him, casting such feareful
frownes, as might make the stoutest heart in the world
to tremble; and at last, setting himselfe before the Blacke
Knight, spake as folio weth.

Feare not my sonne, I am the ghost of thy murthered
father, returned from Pluto's hollow region : I came
from that burning kingdome, where continually flames
an everlasting furnace : from the fearefull pitte come I
to thee for revenge. Oh thou my sonne, if ever gentle
nature were plyant in thy boosome ; if ever thou tookest
pleasure to hear thy fathers honours spoken of: if ever
thou desirest to have thy life meritorious in this world
take to thee thy never failing courage, and revenge my
death upon thy adulterous mother : thy mother now
living in the filthinesse of shame, making the castle
where shee now remains in, a lustful stewes ; there was
I murthered, and there buried in a stinking dunghill ;
no man gave mee funerall teares, nor any sorrowed for
my death ; I that have dared death in the face, and pur-
chast honour in many kingdomes, was slaine by my owne
wife, by my neerest friend, by my second selfe, by An-
glitora, by her whom the whole world admired for vir-
tue. Eise, deare sonne, rise, and hast thee to that
castle, polluted with the shame of thy wicked mother :
Eise I say, and let the pavements of that castle be
sprinkled with their detested blood, the blood of that

TOM A LTNCOLKE. 341

monster that hath not onely despoyled my marriage
bedde of honoured dignities, but like a tyrant to her
owne flesh hath murthered mee.

See how the angry heavens (as it were) doe threaten
my revenge ; hearke how hell-furies doe howle and roare
for my revenge ; my wifes adulterie at the hand of hea-
ven deserves revenge! My bleeding soule (Oh my sonne)
wandreth in unquiet paths till thou workest revenge :
then feare not (sonne) to act it : for duty, love, and
nature, bindes thee to it. By heaven and by that great
immortall throane of happiness ; by that low kingdome
of eternall paines ; by the huge watery seas I past to
follow her ; by earth and by the soules of all the mor-
tall men that ever dyed, I command, charge, and con-
straine thee to persevere in this revenge : hence to that
foule defamed castle, defamed by adulterie, defamed by
murther ; there to my soule doe thy latest duty ; there
wound thy cursed mothers brest, there sacrifice her lifes
blood, there appease thy fathers ghost incenst with furie;
so shall my soule in ioy enter the fields of faire Elizium :
But if thou provest cowardlike, and through feare deny
to execute my glorious revenge, from this day hence,
forth shall my pale, wan, leane, and withered ghost with
ghastly lookes and fearfull steps, pursue andfollow thee.
These were the words of his fathers ghost : and having
spoken these words, with a grievous groane, he vanished.
At this his suddaine departure the Blacke Knight
cryed with a loud and fearfull voyce, saying.

My noble father, stay ; oh stay thy hasty steppes:
once more let mee heare thee speake. Whither flyest

342 TOM A L1NC0LJTE.

thou. Oh let me heare thy voyce againe : It will not
be, he is vanished ; and my mother lives as a shame to
all our generation. Oh thou staine of womanhood : oh
thou bloody lionesse : oh brutish act : oh beastly desires:
where shall I now find a place to shed teares in : for my
heart is rent in tenne thousand pieces, and the terrour
of this deed is too intollerable. Eest thou in peace, sweete
father. Thou in thy life wert both wise and valiant :
thy vertue, wisedome, and manhood, made the very ene-
mies to love thee : Oh then, what fortune hadst thou, to
die by the friendly trust of thy owne wife, my disloyall
mother, thy nearest friend prov'd thy greatest enemie ;
and by a woman's malice, that killed, that millions of
foes could never daunt. Oh sweete Bed Rose Knight ;
most happy hadst thou beene to have dyed in the fields
of bloody warre, and sealed thy lives quittance amongst
renowned souldiers ; then had thy death beene more
honourable, my wicked mother had not murthered thee,
nor I beene inforst to take such bloody vengeance, as
I intend (deare father) for thy sake : for let mee never
breathe one day longer, nor view the next mornings
rising sunne ; let mee ever live imprisoned in this wil-
dernesse, let nothing prosper that ever I take in hand,
and here let the worlde end, if I cease to prosecute a
mortall revenge, as the soule of my father hath com-
manded. Hereupon he set forward toward the castle,
conducted by what chaunce the heavens had allotted
him : not one steppe he knew aright, nor what course
to take to finde the direct way : but it happened that an
Ignis Fatuus (as hee thought) or a going fire, led him

tom a LnrcoLXE. 343

the right way out of the forest directly to the castle
where his dishonest mother made her abode. But com-
ming neere unto the gates hee found all close, and neere
unto the castle the blackamore set halfe way quicke into
the earth, (having for want of food) eaten most part of
his flesh from his armes whom the Blacke Knight soon
digged up and kept alive, to be a furtherance to his in-
tended revenge.

The poore Indian, being thus happily preserved from
death, revealed all that had hapned in the said castle ;
how his mother lived in adultery, how his father was
murthered, why himselfe was set quickeintheearth; and
lastly for the love of his dead master he protested to
conduct him through a secret vault into the castle, that
in the dead of the night they might the easier accom-
plish their desired revenge ; thus lingring secretly about
the castle till the middle of the night : a time (as they
imagined) to be the fittest for their tragicall businesse ;
at last the midnight houre came, and through a secret
cell they entered under the castle into the lodging where
his father was murthered. This is the place (quoth the
negar) where my sad eyes beheld thy father both alive
and dead. So going from thence into the chamber
(which by chance and as ill lucke had appointed) was
through negligence left open, hee shewed him the bedde
where these adulterers lay secretly sleeping in each
others arms. Oh dolefull sight, this lust hath made me
fatberlesse, and ere long this weapon shall make mee
motherlesse : so kneeling down upon his knees, in a

N

344 TOM A LINCOMTE.

whispering manner hee said unto himselfe. You lowring
destinies now weave up the webbe of their two lives
that have lived too long. You infernall furies draw
neare; assist mee thou revengefull God Nemesis, for on
this sword sits now such a glorious revenge as being
taken the worlde will applaude mee for a loving sonne.
Having spoken these wordes, hee sheathed his sword up
to the hilts in the boosome of the Knight of the Castle,
who lying in the armes of Anglitora gave so deadly a
groane that she immediately awaked ; first looking to
the knight that was slaine in her armes, then perceiving
her sonne standing with his weapon drawne ; yet wreak-
ing in the blood of the dead knight, menacing likewise
her death, with a wofull shrieke she breathed out these
words. Oh what hast thou done my cruell sonne ; thou
hast slaine the miracle of humanitie ; and one whom I
have chosen to be my hearts paramour, and thy second
father.

Oh, Lady, quoth the Blacke Knight, for mother is
too proud a title for thee ; what furie driveth.thee to
lament the deserved death of that lewde blood shedder,
and not rather choose with heart rending sighes, to
bewaile the death of my father, thy renowned husband,
whose guiltlesse body, even dead, thou didst despise, by
buring him inhumanly upon a dunghill ; but heaven
hath graunted, and earth hath agreed, detesting both
thy misdeedes, and hath sent mee to sacrifice thy blood
unto the soule of my murthered father. Whilst hee was
speaking these words Anglitora arose from her bed, and

TOM A LINCOLKE. 345

in her smock (which was of pure camhrick), shee
kneeled to her sonne upon her bare knees, saying,

Oh, thou my deare sonne, whom once I nourisht in
my painefull wombe, and fed thee with mine owne
blood, whom oft I choicely dandled in my arms, when
with lullabies and sweet kisses I rocked thee asleep ;
oh farre bee it from thee (my loving sonne) to harm
that breast, from whom thou first receivedst life : of
thee (my sonne) thy mother begging life ; oh spare the
life that once gave thee life, with bleeding teares I doe
confesse my wanton offences, I doe confesse through me
thy father dyed ; then if confession of faults may merit
mercie, pardon my life. Obscure not thy renowne with
cruelty, making thyselfe unkinde and monstrous in
murthering of thy mother. I charge thee by thy dutie
that thou owest me ; by all the bondes of love betwixt
a mother and a sonne ; by all the kindnesse shewed to
thee in thy infancie, let thy mother live, that begs life
upon her bare knees. Do not thou glory in my mise-
ries ; let not my teares whet on thy crueltie : let not
thy minde bee bent to death and murder ; be no savage
monster ; bee not unnaturall, rude, and brutish ; let my
intreaties prevaile to save my life; wound not the wombe
that fostred thee, which now I tearmed wicked by onely
fostring thee ; what child can glut his eyes with gazing
on his parent's wounds, and will not faint in beholding
them.

Hereupon the Blacke Knight not able to endure to
suffer his mother's further intreaties, lest pitie and re-

346 TOM A LINCOLItE.

morse might mollifie his heart, and so grant her life
(which to heaven to take away hee had deepely sworne),
hee cut her off with these deadly words.

Lady, I am not made of flint nor adamant ; in kinde
regarde of calamitie I am almost strucke with remorse;
but dutie must quite undoe all dutie; kinde must worke
against kinde, all the powers of my body bee at mortall
strife, and seeke to confound each other. Love turnes
to hatred, nature turnes to wrath, and dutie to revenge,
for mee thinkes my father's blood, with a groaning
voyce, cryest to heaven for revenge : therefore io ap-
pease my father's angry spirit, here shalt thou yeeld
up thy dearest blood. Here was hee ready to strike, and
with his sword to finish up the tragedie, but that his
grieved soule in kinde nature plucked backe his hand ;
whereupon with a great sigh he said.

Oh heavens, how am I grieved in mind. Eather
forgive me, I cannot kill my mother. And now againe
meethinkes I see the pale shadow of my fathers ghost
gliding before mine eyes ; methinkes hee shewes me the
manner of his murther : mee thinkes his angry lookes
threaten mee, and tels how that my heart is possest
with cowardise, and childish feare ; thou dost prevaile ;
oh father, even now receive this sacrifice of blood and
death ; this pleasing sacrifice which to appease thy
troubled soule I heare doe offer. And thus in speaking
these wordes, with his sword hee split the deare heart of
his mother ; from whence the blood as from a gushing
spring issued. Which when hee beheld, such a sudden

TOM A LINCOLNB. 347

conceit of griefe entred his mind, considering that hee
had slaine his owne mother, whom in dutie he ought to
honour above all living women, that hee rather fell into
afrenzie then a melancholly and so with a pale coun-
tenance and gastly lookes, with eyes sparkling like to
a burning furnace, began to talke idlely.

What have I done ? Whom hath my bloody hand
murthered ? Now woe unto my soule, for I am worse
then the viperous brood that eats out their dammes
wombe to get life unto themselves : they doe but ac-
cording to nature, I against all nature ; for I have
digged up the bosome that first gave mee life. Oh
wicked wretch, where shall I now hide my head, for I
have slaine myselfe in killing her : I have stained this
chamber here with humane blood : the heavens abhore
mee for this deed : the world condemnes me for this
murther, and hell furies will follow me with shame and
terror : the G-ods are grieved, men (methinks) flie my
company ; dead ghosts arise in my distresses ; I see my
mother comes with a brest bleeding, threatning confu-
sion to my fortunes. Oh thou ugly spirit cease to follow
mee, torment mee not alive, for the wrath of heaven is
fallen upon my head. Dispaire, where art thou ? I
must find thee out, I will goe seeke thee through the
world : and if in the world I find thee not, He saddle
winged Pegasus, and scale the mantion place of Jove. I
will ransake all the corners of the skie, I will throw
downe the sunne, the moone, and starres : then leaving
heaven I will goe seeke for despaire in the loathsome

348 TOM A LINCOL^E.

poole of hell, there in Plutoes court will I binde blacke
Cerberus up in chaines, the triple headed hellhound,
that porter of hell gates, because he let Despaire passe
from thence. In this franticke sort ran he up and
downe the chamber, and at last with the najles of his
fingers, hee fell to grave upon the stone walls the pic-
ture of his mother, imitating Pigmalion, hoping to have
life breathed into the same. Meane while the poore
Indian with fleshlesse armes heaved up towards hea-
ven, and on his bare knees, made his supplication to the
Gods for the Blacke Knights recovery of his wits.

Oh you angry Heavens (quoth hee) revoke your
heavy doomes, forget this crime, forgive this unnaturall
murther ; pity the state of this distressed Knight, and
send some meanes to recover his senses. Thou bright
lampe of heaven, thou eternall light, although in justice
wee have deserved thy wrath, yet let my prayers, my
never ceasing prayers, my hearts renting sighes, my
deepe inforced teares, worke some remorse from thy
incensed ire, that either this Knight may recover his
lost senses, or set him free from death. Thus in a
zealous manner prayed the poore negar, desiring God
to lay the K- lights fault upon his head, and reclaime
his unbridled rage ; which prayer was soone regarded by
heaven, for the Blacke Knight had immediately his
madnesse turned into a sad melancholly ; and in a more
gentle manner made his sad lamentations, as you shall
heare in the next chapter.

But now the negar, that all the time of Anglitora's

TOM A LINCOLNE. 349

murther stood in a trance, began now a little (consider-
ing the fright hee tooke at the "Black Knights mad-
nesse) to summon againe together his naturall senses,
and perceiving the unchaste lady dead, cold, pale, wan,
lying weltring in her goare- and the blood of her false
heart (shed by her owne child) all besprinkled about the
chambre, sayd as followeth.

Now (quoth the negar betwixt life and death,) have
you showne yourselfe a dutifull sonne, and nobly re-
venged the death of your father. These were the last
words of the poor negar Indian, which as then sunke
downe, and never after breathed. Thereupon came
forth the Dwarfe of the Castle, with great store of
treasure, proffering the same to the Blacke Knight ;
who nothing thirsting after covetousnesse, refused it,
and withall tooke the Dwarfe in satisfaction for the
negars death, and crammed the treasure downe his
throat ; and after buried the two servants together in
one grave. This being done he digged up his fathers
body from the dunghill, and brought it to the chamber
where his mother lay, and after in an abbey yard be-
longing to the castle, he buried them both likewise in
one grave. This being done hee kneeled thereupon
and made his complaint in this manner.

CHAP. VII.

Of the Blacke Knights melancholly lamentations over
the grave of his parents ; and of other things that

hapned.
Oh thrice happy for evermore bee this ground that

350 TOM A 1INOOLKE.

containes the bodies of my unfortunate parents ; for
this earth hath received the sweet darling of nature; and
the onely delight of the whole world ; the sunshine of
Christendome, and the glory of mankind ; oh thrice
happy be the grasse, that from henceforth shall grow
upon this grave ; let never si1<he touch it, nor crafty
lurking serpent with venemous breath, or deadly poyson
hurt it. Let no lyons pawes, nor beares foot, tread
upon it ; let no beasts borne in any manner abuse it,
let no birds with pecking, no creeping filthy vermine,
no winters nipping frost, no nightly salting dewes, no
rage of the parching sunnes heat, nor starres have power
from heaven, nor fearfull tempest nor horrible lightning
in any manner annoy it. Let no ploughman drive
hither his weary oxen, nor shepherds bring hither their
sheepe, lest by the bulls rage it be harmed, or by the
harmlesse sheepe it be eaten : but let it for ever grow,
that the displaying thereof may reach to heaven : and
may from henceforth this grave be ever accounted
sacred; and may the grasse be ever sprinkled with
sweet waters. Some good man upon this grave set a
burning taper, that then for every anguish of my heart
I may beat my brests, till my fistes have strucken the
winde from my body ; and that my soule may beare
them company into Elizium. Come you wanton fleshly
satyres ; come you friendly fawnes ; come you fayries
and dryades, and sing sweet epitaphes ; lift up your
voyces to heaven, and let your prayses be in the honour
of my parents. Myselfe, like a wan, pale, and dead
man, will beare you company : I will wearie the world

TOM A LINOOLNE. 351

with my complaints ; I will make huge streames with
my teares ; such streames as no banke shall barre ;
such streames as no drought shall dry. But alas what
doe I meane to repeat these severall lamentations ;
since my deare parents be dead : since from the world
they are parted ; since they are buried without solem-
nitie ; since my delights are all enclosed in the ground.
Yet will I still here make my complaints, though no
good ease comes thereby, adding teares to teares, and
sorrowes to sorrowes. Oh frowning fortune, oh unlucky
starres, oh cursed day that ever I did this deed, for now
no sense, nor knowledge, takes their unsensible bodies
of my griefes : in this grave there is no feeling ; in
death there is no pitie taken. Oh thou Silvanus, thou
commander of these mountaines, helpe mee poore help-
lesse soule to shed teares : for my religion, for my de-
votion, and countries sake helpe mee: either let me
have some comfort in my sorrowes, or let mee in death
beare my parents company. Thou seest what torments
I suffer ; how my heart trembles, how my eyes flow with
teares, how my head is with teares possest, how my
soule is full of horrible anguish : all this thou seest, and
yet it little grieves thee to see it. Oh thou churlish
ground, from henceforth cease any more to beare fruit :
cease to be deckt with flowers, cease to be mantled in
greene, for the purest flowers are withered ; thy gar-
lands are decayed; my deare parents are too untimely
bereft of life ; their sweet bodies thou harbourest, and
in thy wombe deliverest them as food unto wormes.

352 TOM A LINCOLNE.

Therefore thou cruell earth howle, and inourne, for thou
art unworthy of such blessed bodies. And now, oh
you pittifull heavens, heare my complaints, convey them
to the soules of my deceased parents ; for my lamenta-
tions by the gentle windes are blown from the east unto
the west ; the dry land and the watry seas are witnesses
to them ; therefore no day shall rise but it shall heare
my complaints ; no night shall come but it shall give
eare unto my moanes ; neither day nor night shall be
free from my heart-breaking cryes. If that I groane
meethinkes the trees are bended, as though they pittied
my teares. The very ground (for griefe) I see alters her
complexion. All that I heare, all that I see, all that I
feele, gives fresh increase to my sorrow. I will never
henceforth come in peopled towne, nor inhabited cittie,
but wander all alone up and downe by low valleyes and
steepy rockes, or I will dwell in darke dennes frequented
onely by wilde beastes, where no path of man was ever
seene, or to the woods I will goe, so darke, and beset so
thicke with shaildow branches, that no sunne may shine
there by day, nor no starre by night may be seene,
whereas is heard no voyce but the outcryes of horrible
goblings, the balefull shrikes of nightowles,the unluckie
sounds of ravens and crowes ; there shall mine eyes bee
made watry fountaines; there will I make such plaints
as beastes shall mourne to heare them ; such plaintes
will I make as shall rend and rive strong trees, make
wilde panthers tame, and mollifie hard flinty stones ;
and if by chance that sleepe oppresse mee, on the bare

TOM A LINOOLffE. 353

and cold ground shall these wofull limbes rest, the
greeneturffe shall serve as a pillow for my head: boughes
and branches of trees shall cover mee ; and then I hope
some venemous serpent will speedily give mee my deaths
wound, that this my poore soule may bee released from
flesh and blood : by which meanes I may passe to those
fields, those faire Elizium fields, whereas my murthered
parents daily resort. In this manner complained the
Blacke Knight upon his parents grave, three dayes and
nights together, still kneeling upon the cold ground,
and could not by any imagination bee comforted : every
thing his eyes beheld renewed fresh sorrow, and drew
on new lamentations : but at last the power of heaven
intending to graunt him some ease cast his distressed
senses into a quiet slumber, where lying upon his fa-
thers grave, we will let him for a time rest.

CHAP. VIII.

How the Fayerie Knight came to be called the "Worlds

Triumph, of his arrivall in England, of the two

Knights deaths, and of the Proverbs used of three

Cities in England.

You have read in the first part of this Historie how

the Eayerie Knight, the sonne of Cselia, begot by the

Red Rose Knight, was committed (by his mother, at her

death) to the keeping of the Ladies of the Land, fttf

then was there but few men living, being a countrey

onely of women : and now being of lusty age, and a

knight of renowned valour, he betooke himselfe to tra-

TOL. II. A A

354 TOM A LINCOLNE.

yell ; the onely cause to finde his father, or some of his
kindred, whom he had never seene.

Many were the countries hee passed, but more the
dangers hee endured ; all which for this time wee omit:
onely a little speake of three guifts given him by an
hermite, that had three exceeding virtues : for comming
to an island to seeke adventures, it was his chance to
save a young beautifull mayden from ravishing by a
satyricallwildman,for hee having tyed the golden lockes
of her hayre to two knotty brambles, and being ready
to take his pleasure upon her, the Payerie Knight com-
ming by, and seeing that dishonour and violence oflred
to so young a virgin, with his sword at one blow paired
away the wildmans head, and so went with the mayden
home to her fathers house, which was an hermitage
some miles distant off ; where being no sooner come,
but the good old man, having a head more white then
silver, but a heart more heavier then lead, by reason of
the want of his daughter, so cruelly taken from him,
began at her sight to be so cheered, that hee had not
the power (for joy)to speake in a good space, but at last,
taking the Fayerie Knight by the hand, hee led him to
an inward roome, where hee banqueted him with such
cheere as his hermitage afforded, and after in lieu of his
daughters reschew, hee gave him three such gifts, and
of three such virtues, as the like seldome had Knight.
The first was a ring, which whosever did weare should
never dye by treason. The second, a sword : that on
what gate soever it strucke it would presently fly open.

TOM A LINCOLNE. 355

The third and last a viall of such drinke that whosoever
tasted thereof should sodainely forget all passed sor-
rowes.

Having received these three gifts of the good old
hermite, he departed and travelled without any adven-
ture till he came and found the Blacke Knight asleepe
upon his fathers grave; which when the Fayerie Knight
had awaked, in countenance they were so alike as nature
had made them both one, (for indeed they were brothers
by the fathers side, the one true borne, the other a bas-
tard) yet at the first sight, such a secret affection grew
betwixt them, that they plighted their fayths each to
each other, vowing never to part friendships. But
when the Blacke Knight had revealed his birth and
parentage, his fathers name, and place of birth, the
Payerie Knight resolved himselfe that he had found a
brother as well in nature as condition ; but when hee
heard the story of his fathers life, and the manner of his
death, with the murther of Anglitora his unchast wife,
hee could not choose but shed teares, whereof plenty
descended from his faire eyes : whereupon hee tooke
occasion to speake as followeth.

Heaven rest thy sweet soule (my unknowne father),
and may the fruits of thee prove as famous in the world
as thou hast been ; but more fortunate in their marriage
choyse ; as for my stepmother, though her unchast life
have made her infamous to all womankind, yet this in
charitie I desire, that when shee comes to Flutoes
realms, that Proserpine may send her to the blessed

356 TOM 1. LINCOLNE.

fields of Elizium ; in remembranee of whom, in this
world, (if ever we arrive in that noble country of Eng-
land where my Knightly Father was borne) wee will
there erect her a stately tombe ; yet no epitaph shall
shew her disloyall life, nor the cause of her death ;
onely in letters of beaten gold shall remain engraved
upon her tombe the name of Anglitora, daughter to
Prester John, and wife to the worthy Eed Eose
Knight. Hereupon hee gave his new found brother
(the Blacke Knight) his viall of drinke which the her-
mite had given him ; who no sooner had tasted, but all
former griefes were forgotten ; he remembered not
the death of his Father, nor the murther of his mother,
nor what sorrow he had sustayned in the wildemesse,
but like a joconde knight, gyrt his sword round
about him, and stood on thornes, till he was set forward
to seeke martial adventures. Hereupon these two
knights departed towards England, and performed many
noble deeds of chivalry by the way : but amongst all
others, being in the Turkish court, (this is worthy to be
noted) for with one boxe of the eare, the Black Knight
killed the Turkes Sonne starke dead : for which cause
by treason were their lives conspired, and the following
night had their lodging entred by twelve of the Turkes
guard, with an intent to murther them ; but by reason
of the Inchanted Eing in the which they put both their
little fingers, the guard of a sodaine fell all fast in a
traunce ; hereupon the two knights departed the Turk-
ish court. But no sooner were they out of the citie,

TOM A LMTCOLKE. 357

but a troupe of armed knights pursued them, and fol-
lowed them so nerely, that they were forced to enter a
castle that stood by the sea-side, wherein no creature
had abyding: comming to the gate, the Payerie Knight
with his sword strucke thereat, and it presently opened ;
wherein being no sooner entred, but the armed knights
of the Turkish nation closed them fast in, and caused the
gates to be walled up with free-stone, and so departed.
Now were these two knights in more danger of death,
than ever they had been mail their lives ; and sure they
had starved had not good polici'e preserved their lives;
for the castle walles were so high, that none durst venture
down without great danger. As in greatest extremity,
man's wit is the quickest for invention: so the two knights
cutoff all the haire from their two heads(which were very
long) and therwithal made a long twisted line or cord,
with the which they steal from the top of the wall to the
ground. But this mischance hapned 2 as the Fayerie
Knight glided downe, the coard broke, and his body
took such a violent blow against the stonie ground, that
it strucke breath quite out of his body, no life by the
Black Knight could be perceived, but that his soul was
for ever divided. This of all misfortunes was held the
extreamest : therefore in great griefe he breathed forth
this lamentation.

Oh you partiall fates (quoth hee) oh you unjust des-
tinies ; why have you reft two lives by wounding one ;
now let the sunne forbear his wonted light, let heate
and cold, let drought and moysture, let earth and ayre,
let fire and water, be all mingled and confounded toge-

358

TOM A LINCOLNE.

ther ; let that old confused Chaos returne againe, and
here let the world end. And now you heavens, this is
my request, that my soule may presently forsake this
flesh ; I have no soule of mine owne, for it is the soule
of the Fayerie Knight, for but one soule is common to
us both ; then how can I live having my soule departed,
which spightfull death hath now seperated ? Oh thou my
knightly brother though the fates deny to give thee life,
yet in spight of them He follow thee. You heavens
receive this halfe soule of my true friend and let not life
and death part us ; with eagles wings will I fly after him
and in loves celestiall throne joyne with him in friend-
ship, we two in life were but one, one will, one heart,
one minde, one soule made us one ; one life kept us both
alive, one being dead drawes the other unto death ;
therefore as wee lived in love, so will we dye in love :
and on one grave we may inter both our bodies ; how
glorious and happy were my death to die with my be-
loved friend ; how doe I loath this life in living alone
without my deare brother : whereupon drawing his
sword from his side, he sayd,

Oh thou woful weapon, even thou shall be the meane
to ridde my soule from this prison of body. Oh faith,
unfained, oh hand of sacred friendship ; I am resolved
both with the force of heart, hand, and' amies, to give
my heart deaths deadly wound: fornow my noble Eayerie
Knight this blood I offer up unto thy soule. But being
ready with his sword to pierce his owne hart, hee saw a
lively blood spread in his friends face, and those eyes
that were so dolefully closed up, began now to looke

TOM A LINCOLtfE. 359

abroad ; and the countenance that was so pale and wan,
recovered a fresh complexion ; whereupon the Blacke
Knight stayed from his desperate resolution, and from a
bloody tragedian became the recoverer of his brothers
life : who after a while, began to be perfect sensible : so
binding his bruised bones together, they went a ship-
board upon a ship that lay at anchor at the next port,
making for England, so the next morning (the wind
served well) the pilots hoysted sayle, merrily floating on
the waters.

Ten weekes had not passed toward the finishing of a
yeare before they arrived on the Chaulkie Cliffs of
England ; upon which they had no sooner sett foot-
ing, but with their warme lips they gently kissed the
cold earth. This is the land of promised glory (said
the Fayrie Knight) to find this land I have indured
many miseries : to find this land I have passed many
countries, and in this land, must I seale up the
last quittance of my life, here shall my bones rest,
for I am lawfully descended from the loyns of an
English knight : peace be in my end, for all my
dayes have been spent in much trouble. In such like
discourses left they the shore side, and travailing
further into the land, they met with one of King
Arthures Knights, named Sir Launcelot Du Lac, so
old and lame, that through his bruises in chivalrie, he
seemed rather an impotent creature, than a Knight at
Armes ; yet at the sight of these two adventrous knights,
his blood seemed to grow young, and he that before

360 TOM A L1NOOLNE.

could not march a mile on foot for a kingdom e, now
went as lively as any of the two other knights did. First
came they to London, where for their lather's sake they
were (by the governours) most gallantly entertained :
the streets were hung round with arras hangings and
tapestre works ; pageants were builded up in every
street, the conduits ran with wine, and a solemn holy
day was then proclaimed to be kept yearely upon that
day.

After this the King which then raigned, ordained a
solemn justing to be kept in his court, and held in a
great honour for forty days ; to which knightly sports
resorted the chiefest flowers of chivalry from all coun-
tries, as Kings, Princes, Dukes, Earls, Lords, and
Knights, and for chief challeger and champion for the
country, was the Fairy Knight who for his matchless
manhood therein shewn, had this title to be given him
to be called * The "World's Triumph.'

After this, being desirous to see the City of Lincoln,
where the Red Rose Knight was born, he in company
of his brother and true friend The Black Knight, and
old Sir Lancelot du Lac rode thither : at whose coming
into the city, the great bell (called Tom a Lincolne) was
rung an hour, which as then was seldom done to any
except kings and renowned warriors, returning victo-
riously from bloody battels.

Here builded they a most sumptuous minster ; and
likewise a most stately tomb in remembrance of their
parents, the like as then no place of England afforded.

I

TOM A LJffCOLNE. 361

Thus having left the noble Beats of chivalry, they
lived a life zealous and most pleasing to Q-od, erecting
many almes-houses for poor people, giving thereto great
wealth and treasure, and when nature had ended their
days, they were buried in the same minster both in one
tomb, with like solemnities : so richly set up with
pillars of gold, that above all it grew the most famous :
whereupon since that time was the old proverb, of three
cities grown common to all, in these words, * Lincoln
is, London was, York shall be. 9

FINIS.

O. NORMAN, PRINTER, MAIDEN LANE, COVENT GARDEN.

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